A Wandering Heart
by Negaduck
Summary: One Fraggle's journey through Fraggle Rock and what lies beyond.
1. Rainy Day

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 1: Rainy Day<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>It was a dark and stormy day. Despite being cave dwellers the Fraggles were aware of this, because a column of rain was falling through the well in the Gorgs' garden and into the pond in the Great Hall in the cavern below. Fraggles loved water, whether flowing or falling, and they cheerfully incorporated this novel element into their water games.<p>

Janken was sitting on the arch, watching the Fraggles in the pond. He felt no urge to join in. He had swum earlier that day, and just didn't feel like doing it again. Before long the entertainment value of watching others splash around wore thin, and he walked down the arch and away.

Hands in the pockets of his yellow sweater, he wandered toward the cave that his mother Mokey and his aunt Red shared. En route he met Mokey in the tunnel. She was leading her seven-year-old daughter Sage by the hand. Sage was a ball of bluish-green fur like Boober, her father, but much more energetic and cheerful. "Janjanjan!" she called.

He said, "Hi, Sage! Where're you two going?"

"I'm going to get a radish for dinner, and Sage is going to help me select just the right one," Mokey answered.

Sage told him, "Papa wants a big one, but it needs to fit in the oven. Just this big." She held her hands wide apart.

"That big, huh? Can I help carry it?"

"I can carry it by myself!" she declared.

"I could use your help getting some for the pantry," Mokey answered.

They never actually needed him to gather radishes, he knew, but it was always a good idea to have extra food on hand. "It's raining out," he said conversationally as they walked up the tunnel.

"Oh, well," Mokey said, trying to look cheerful, but Janken could tell she didn't want to go out in the rain. No Fraggle minded getting wet, but mud was another matter.

* * *

><p>The three of them stopped before they went out into the garden. Mokey and Janken removed their sweaters, as fur dries faster than clothing and is easier to clean. Sage was wearing only the feathers, flowers, and other decorations she stuck in her braided hair. They left their clothes just inside the tunnel, then went out into the garden.<p>

The rain was coming down in heavy drops, quickly plastering their hair down and soaking their fur. It was a warm rain, though, so they were comfortable. As expected, the loose soil of the garden had become mud, which splattered up onto them as the raindrops struck. Worse, they had to cross deep mud puddles, which sucked at their feet and made it hard to walk.

Mokey said to her daughter, "You know what kind of radish Boober wants. Pick out a good one for us."

Sage splished about in the mud, inspecting the radishes one by one. She found a large one that she liked, and held out her arms, comparing it to the size Boober wanted. It was easily triple that. Janken watched with amusement as she gazed longingly at it for a moment longer, then regretfully moved on. He would have picked it himself, but it was too big for one Fraggle to carry.

A little further down Sage found a radish that she approved of. She said to Mokey, "Let's get this one, Mama!"

"All right. Pick it," Mokey answered.

Sage put her arms around it and tried to lift. Her feet sank into the mud. Janken was about to help her when the radish suddenly came loose. She stumbled, fell over backwards, and landed in the mud with a squelchy plop. The radish still clutched to her chest, she exclaimed, _"Ewwwww!"_

Both Janken and Mokey grinned as they helped her up. Her back and the back of her head were completely coated with mud. Mokey said, "Never mind, the rain will wash that away."

"Yeah," Janken said as he tugged at another radish. It resisted. He pulled hard, careful not to repeat his sister's performance. After a minute the radish worked loose, and he began dragging it through the mud by its greens.

They brought the radishes to the entrance of Fraggle Rock, then stood and waited for the rain to wash the mud off of them and the vegetables. Sage and Mokey did their best to work the mud out of Sage's hair and fur. Janken said to Mokey, "I still haven't decided what job I want."

"You don't have to rush," Mokey told him. "You help me bring radishes from the garden, and you help Boober gather what he needs for his home remedies and do the laundry, and you explore with Gobo and his uncle Matt, and you help other people. It's not like you're sitting around doing nothing."

He sighed. "I keep busy, but, well, it's like I'm just copying other people. I'm not doing anything that's _me."_

Sympathetically she said, "I see what you mean. Have you asked The Trash Heap for advice?"

He shrugged. "I know what she'd tell me to do. Sort it out for myself. And she'd be right. _I_ need to decide what I'm going to be. I just don't have any clue what that is yet."

She patted his back, _splat splat_ on his wet fur. "Don't worry, just keep looking and you'll find something that's just perfect for you."

* * *

><p>When the three were clean again they entered the passageway. Mokey and Janken carried the radish Janken had picked, as it was a large one, and Sage carried her prize, which was bigger around than she was, by herself.<p>

Mokey and Janken placed the big radish in the pantry, and Sage hustled over to Boober's kitchen, calling out "Papa Boober! I got your radish!"

"That's perfect," he told her as she set it on the cutting block in the center of the room. Seeing how wet she was, he asked, "Did it grow in the swimming hole?"

"It was raining. We got all muddy, so we stayed outside until the rain cleaned us and the radishes off again," she explained.

"Oh, okay."

"Bye," the little girl said, and ran out to the great hall. If she was already soaked through, she was going to do some swimming!

Janken dodged out of his little sister's way, then entered the kitchen. "Hi. Need an extra pair of hands?"

"Sure. You could chop these up," Boober said, pointing with a knife at some wild onions on the cutting block. "Bulbs and greens both."

"Okay." While Janken got another knife Boober took out a deep pan. He placed the radish in it and began peeling the reddish-pink skin in strips, giving it a striped appearance. He was finished by the time Janken had chopped up the onions. "What else?" Janken asked.

"I've got everything else ready," Boober said as he mixed the onions with some other dried, chopped herbs and drizzled them on the radish. "Oh, you could bring that to Red."

Janken looked in the direction Boober nodded. It was a small pitcher with a cup for a lid. He glanced inside. Blueberry juice. "Sure. She'll like this."

"And make sure she's resting. If she isn't, come get me."

"I will," Janken promised.

* * *

><p>Janken went into Red and Mokey's cave. It was also partially his home; he had spaces to sleep in all of his parents' caves. That had been fun when he was little, always having the choice of where to spend the night, and they all welcomed him, but lately it was starting to feel kind of... well, childish, not having a place of his own.<p>

Red was asleep in her bed on the floor, curled around Poncle, her week-old daughter. She had had to give up her comfortable hammock last winter, when her pregnancy started throwing her balance off. The increasing risk of a nighttime spill wasn't worth it, and Boober had ordered her to sleep in a more stable bed. As uncomfortable as it was to lie on a bed on the ground, she had to admit he was right. Even if it hadn't become a problem when she was pregnant, there was no question of risking sleeping in a hammock with a baby.

Janken was debating whether to awaken her when she heard his footsteps and opened her eyes blearily. Janken said softly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Red. I just brought some juice from Boober."

"Oh, thanks," she said.

Janken poured her a cup. She held it in one hand, the other around the baby, trying to avoid awakening her. She had recently learned two of the most undeniable facts of motherhood: When your baby sleeps, you sleep, and waking it up is an act of masochism. She always had some water on hand, but Boober kept her supplied with juices and radish bars to keep her energy and morale up. She drank, then handed the cup back to Janken and said "Thanks" again.

"How do you feel?" Janken asked.

"Tired. Not as sore as before. I'll be playing rock hockey in a few days." Poncle was beginning to squirm and make little noises. Red picked her daughter up and held her to her chest, where she found what she wanted.

Janken grinned. "If you try Boober will glue your blanket to the floor with you under it."

"Don't I know it. He never bossed Mokey around like that."

"He didn't have to."

And Mokey was bigger than Red and had an easier time having babies, Red thought. Both times she had been up and walking around in a few days. It wasn't fair. But Red was starting to understand why Mokey had been so flaky for a few weeks after Janken and Sage were born. There was something about seeing a tiny living being that had grown inside you, knowing that one day it would walk and talk and be an actual person. She had always understood the process intellectually; now she felt it in her gut, so to speak. She could gaze at Poncle for hours, just feeling her warmth and weight and watching her breathe.

After a few minutes she said, "Could you pour me some more? This is thirsty work."

"Sure." Janken handed her another cup. She took it with her free hand and drank.

Soon Poncle stilled. Having had her fill, she was content just to rest. Janken said, "Would you like me to take her for a while?"

"Yeah. That'd be great," Red said. "I've had plenty of the miracle of life and not enough of the miracle of sleep."

Janken smiled. He lifted Poncle out of Red's arms, supporting the tiny Fraggle's head with one hand and body with the other. The baby began to fuss, but quieted again when Janken held her to his chest. The warmth and familiar smell of his fur reassured her.

* * *

><p>Janken carried Poncle into the Great Hall. Though her eyes were closed—Fraggle babies' eyes opened when they were a few weeks old—he could tell she was still awake. She was making little movements with her arms, legs, and tail, and pressing her face to his fur. When she was asleep she went completely limp.<p>

"Hey, Janken."

He looked up. Mica, a gray Fraggle his age, had come up to him unnoticed. "That's your little sister?"

"Yeah. I'm taking care of her so Red can sleep."

"That's sweet of you."

"Eh, it's no big deal. She's just been fed, so all I have to do is be ready when the other end needs cleaning."

"Yuck."

"Yeah." He shrugged.

Mica thought that he could feign a casual attitude as long as he wanted, but the way he held the tiny bundle of brown-and-blonde fluff close, stroking her face and playing with her fingers and toes, told her otherwise. They had been close friends as long as they could remember; she could tell when he was bluffing. After a few minutes she asked, "Can I hold her?"

"Sure."

Janken gave her the baby, but as soon as Mica was holding her Poncle began to squirm and whine. Janken said, "She doesn't recognize you. Here, sit closer to me."

"All right," Mica said, scooting over.

"Now turn partway toward me so she's between us." He put one arm around Mica. Poncle wriggled a little more, then settled down again. Janken said, "At first she didn't want anyone but Red and Gobo to hold her. This is how we got her used to the rest of us—hold her so she can smell someone she knows, and she'll get used to the other one."

"I never would have thought of that," Mica said.

"Me neither. I don't know who came up with that trick."

They sat together, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, holding the baby between themselves. When Poncle went limp, Janken said quietly, "She's asleep."

"Yeah," Mica said softly. After a pause she added, "You'll make a good father some day."

"You too," he replied. "Well, except you'll be a mother."

"It's nice of you to help Red out like this."

"Oh, I don't mind. I don't have anything better to do," he said wryly.

She understood his problem. He had talked with her about it. They were close enough to talk about almost anything, including things that it was hard to bring up with a parent. Sympathetically she said, "I know. But you'll find something."

Quietly he said, "I sure hope so."

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Sage, Poncle, and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Sage, Poncle, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	2. Take 1

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 2: Take 1<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>There were many Fraggles in Fraggle Rock. Nobody had ever bothered to count them; guesses ranged from dozens to several hundred. All agreed, however, that however many there were, it was the right number.<p>

It would seem impossible, if anyone had given much thought to the matter, to find vacant caves close to the heart of the colony. But it happened anyway, so Fraggles accepted it as an unexplainable fact of life, on a par with the appearance of the Fraggle Moon and the passages deep underground that led to Outer Space.

Janken and Mica had found just such an empty cave. It was a medium-sized room, with a flat floor and shelflike formations at waist height along most of the walls. They looked all around, then at each other. After a quiet moment he said, "What do you think?"

"It's just right... and it's a little eerie. Not scary, just... did you know this cave was here?"

"I never saw it before in my life."

"Wow."

In a low voice Janken said, "If Mokey saw this she'd say the Rock was providing for us, just like it provided for her and Red right after they decided to move in together. That sounds flaky, but at times like this I see how she believes that, you know?"

"Yeah." She stopped looking around and took his hand. "Whether or not it was meant for us or it's just here, I think we should take it."

"Yeah."

"Let's get our stuff."

* * *

><p>Janken's belongings were spread among his parents' three homes. The first one he visited was the closest; Red and Mokey's cave. He hadn't slept here much in the past few years. The cave was snug for three, so when Sage was born he had started spending most of his time with Wembley, Gobo, and Boober. Now he only slept over when Red needed help with her baby.<p>

When he entered Red and Mokey were playing with Poncle. The little Fraggle, now ten days old, was still blind. Her eyes wouldn't open for another week or two. She was too young to do much besides eat, sleep, cry, and make messes, but that never discouraged anyone from gleefully babbling baby talk at her. They looked silly, Janken thought, but so what? Silly is good.

Red was still in bed. Poncle's birth had been rough on her, and Boober would not permit her to risk further harm by straining herself. That she actually followed his orders with only token backtalk was taken as proof of her condition. Boober had confided to Janken that when she started complaining in earnest and trying to escape he'd consider her recovered. She had put her hair up in pigtails again, which, Janken thought, was a good sign.

Now Mokey was singing to the baby, a soft, silly ditty about thimble beetles and rumble bugs. Janken nodded to her and Red, unwilling to interrupt the song, then went to his corner and picked up the few items of clothing that he kept here. He left the bedding; with a messy baby in the room, they could always use a spare. Then he sat down by Mokey, listening to the song and looking at Poncle.

After Mokey finished Red asked, "What's up, Janken?"

"I've found a new cave. Mica and I are moving into it today," he told both Red and Mokey.

Mokey said, "That's wonderful! You must be so excited, moving in with your best friend!"

"Yeah, I am. And a little nervous, I guess."

Red told him, "You'll be fine. Where is it?"

"It's not far. Take the right tunnel as you leave here, then go on outward from the Great Hall for a minute, and it's on the right. I'll show you after we move in."

Mokey said, "All right. I hope you two will be as happy as we are!"

Red quipped, "At least, as we were after the first few days."

Janken grinned. He had heard all about Red and Mokey's housewarming battle, which had culminated in the invention of the hammock-thwack. It had been a while since Red's hammock had been used to slingshot anyone into the pool in the Great Hall. "I think we'll get along a little better than that."

* * *

><p>Janken visited Boober next. Boober was sitting back with his feet up, a teacup in hand, gazing at the clothesline that crossed his living space. He always found watching laundry dry relaxing. Janken didn't understand that, but then there was so much not to understand about Boober. In the end, you just accepted him for the oddball he was.<p>

"Want some tea?" Boober offered.

Janken almost said no, but then he changed his mind. "Thanks, yeah."

Boober poured a second cup. Janken took a sip. It was something minty, made with sweetwater. He said, "I've found a place to live. It's close by. I'll show you where it is when we're settled in."

Boober nodded. "I had a feeling you'd find a cave of your own soon. 'We', you said?"

"Yeah. I'm moving in with Mica."

After a pause, Boober said "Oh," into his teacup.

Janken recognized that oh-so-neutral tone of voice: pretending to pretend that nothing was wrong, and doing it badly enough that his opinion came through loud and clear. "Yeah. I really think that this'll work. We really like each other."

"I know you do. I hope you're happy together." Boober put his teacup down, then went over to a box he kept on a shelf. He rummaged within it for a few moments, then turned back and gave Janken a double handful of packets of folded paper. Janken sniffed them. They were teas. Boober liked to make his own blends from dried leaves and herbs. Janken recognized these as some of his favorites. They could be stirred into cold water and let sit for a few minutes, which was good, as not many Fraggles besides Boober had the equipment or knowhow to boil water. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Come back for more."

"I'll come back whether you have tea or not," Janken said with a warm smile.

"Good. My door's always open."

"No, it isn't," Janken teased. The curtain that Boober used as a door was often drawn.

"If it's closed, open it," Boober told him.

"I will."

The two hugged. Then Janken went over to his bed. He didn't have much more in this room than that. He put his clothing down, wrapped the collection of tea packets in that, then made a bundle of the bedding. "See you soon," he said.

"See you," Boober said.

Janken left. Boober sat back at the table and put his feet up again. Anyone who looked in on him would assume he was laundry-gazing, but his eyes, hidden by his cap, were closed. Laundry was not on his mind now. Janken, rooming with a girl? Boober had not expected that. Maybe it would work out, but Boober doubted it would. Still, it was Janken's life; he had the right to take his own chances and make his own mistakes.

* * *

><p>Janken's third stop was Gobo and Wembley's cave. Janken had his own sleeping nook here, and it was where, up until now, he had slept most nights. Wembley and Gobo were sitting in their own nooks, Gobo strumming his gourd guitar and Wembley playing his bongo drums. Janken put down the bundle he was carrying, got the ocarina from the back of his sleeping nook, and joined in. Gobo and Wembley grinned at him, welcoming him to their jam session.<p>

They played a light, improvised tune. Any of them could have sung as well; all Fraggles had a gift for improvising lyrics. However, to sing would be to take control of the music, and they were enjoying it as a simple, cooperative tune.

When they finished Gobo put down his guitar and asked Janken, "What's up with the luggage?"

"I've found a new cave. It's time I got out on my own."

"Really? Where?" Wembley asked.

"It's just a minute from Mokey and Red's cave. It's really nice, and about the same size. Ought to be plenty of room, since we don't have a lot of stuff to clutter it up," Janken explained.

"We? Who are you moving in with?" Wembley asked.

"Mica."

"Oh," Wembley said, surprised.

"Come on, I expected that from Boober, not from you," Janken said. "Mica and I've been best friends since I can remember. Why shouldn't we move in together? You two did."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Wembley said.

Janken started gathering his things from his nook. "Besides, well, it's kind of like testing the waters."

"Well, good luck," Gobo said. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Janken said. He tied the edge of his blanket, on which he had put his possessions, together, then swung it over his shoulder like a sack. Then he paused. "I'll really miss sleeping here, though."

"We'll miss you too," Wembley said softly.

Wembley climbed down the ladder. Janken put down the cloth and hugged his father. He thought, even though he would only be moving a few minutes away, he'd miss him. It really felt like he was leaving home now.

Wembley asked, "Need help carrying your stuff?"

"No, but thanks," Janken said. He swung the cloth back up onto his shoulder and said, "See you later!"

"Good luck!" Gobo said again.

"You too," Janken replied with a grin. Then he turned and left.

* * *

><p>When Janken returned to the new cave Mica was already there. She had few possessions, and had only had to go to one place to gather them, so she had been back for a while. She said, "My mother didn't much like me moving out."<p>

"My fathers thought it was kinda funny too," Janken replied. "I guess it's a parent thing."

"Yeah, guess so," she agreed. "I had some ideas how to set up in here."

"Go on."

"Well, first, do we want to split the room in half or not? Your half, my half?"

He glanced around the room, then at her. "Do we need to?"

"I'd rather not."

"Me neither. Do we want one bed or two?"

There were two obvious spots for beds on the shelflike formations. One was bigger than the other. She nodded toward it and said "I think that's big enough for us both."

"Okay."

He sounded a little hesitant, but then, she realized, so did she. She grinned sheepishly at him. "Big step, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He smiled back at her. "I brought two of my beds. There'll be enough to make one bigger one."

"I can sew two blankets together to cover."

"Sure. I'll set it up. You can put other stuff out."

"Okay."

Mica set out her and Janken's possessions on the flowstone shelf. There wasn't much; most Fraggles didn't accumulate a lot of possessions. She had a kit with thread, yarn, needles, and the like; her family worked with cloth. Janken had his ocarina and some teas. Both had some clothes and a few miscellaneous keepsakes. Not much to set up housekeeping with, she thought, but the rest would come with time.

Janken laid the two sleeping mats—basically very thick blankets—side by side. They could be sewn together, he thought. He covered each with a blanket and put a pillow at each end. And, well, that was all there was to do.

Janken glanced over at Mica. She was looking back at him. He said, "I guess that's pretty much it."

"Yeah."

There was another awkward pause. Then he said, "Except,"

"Except what?"

He put his arms around her and kissed her. After a moment of surprise—he had never kissed her before—she put her arms around his waist and kissed back.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Poncle, and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Poncle, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	3. Niven's Laws

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 3: Niven's Laws<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>Janken looked at the book he had just finished. He had written every page himself, printing in a careful, steady hand. He had even sewn the binding. Mokey had shown him how and, he thought, the end result looked pretty good. The pages were tight and in order; he'd checked twice.<p>

He had been working on it for days and days. Mica thought that he had never invested so much time and effort into any one thing as he had that book. He had recopied whole pages before sewing it together because he was dissatisfied with his handwriting.

It was finished. There was nothing more to do to it. He'd checked it so many times he could no longer read it, he could only see the words. He was just dithering, he admitted to himself. He told Mica, more to force himself to act than to inform her, "I'm going to give this to her now."

"Good luck. Now go," Mica said. She reached out and tugged his tail gently. He grinned at her, then, book in hand, left.

He traveled through winding rock corridors. The Storyteller lived on the edge of the main colony in an oddly-decorated cave. It was one of the few caves with an actual door. Janken had always wondered about that; even Boober only had a curtain blocking the entrance to his home. He had long ago written it off as a personal quirk.

He tapped on her door. She called out, "I'm coming, I'm coming." Before she had finished saying that she opened the door. "Oh, Janken, come in!"

He did. Her home was, as usual, decorated with piles of paper and pictures of Gobo's Uncle Matt. The pictures stayed the same, but the paper formations moved and changed from day to day like living things. The Storyteller asked, "What would you like to hear today?"

"Actually, I brought you something," he said, and held the book out to her. Her eyes widened with surprise as she took it. She opened it and looked at the list on the first page, then smiled. He watched as she turned pages, reading the first lines of each section to see which tale it was.

Janken was the Storyteller's most regular customer. Ever since he was little he had loved coming to her for tales of history and fantasy. Many of them had already been written down; he had spent many hours here reading her books and scrolls when she felt under the weather or her voice was tired. But not all of them were on paper, and in any case a written story couldn't compete with a spoken one. A storyteller made the tales come alive.

Even so, stories ought to be written down, Janken thought, so they would not be lost. He said, "These are the stories you told me about 'the boy' when I was little. I guessed you were making them up for me, and I really liked them, so I wrote them down."

"You've been doing that all this time?" she asked, surprised.

"Well, no. I only started writing them down two Fraggle Moons ago. But I've gone over them in my mind many times, so I remember them pretty well. My favorite was the one about the thimble beetle. Did you make those stories up?"

"Yes, I did," she told him. "I thought you'd like stories about a little boy like yourself."

"Or like my great-uncle Matt?" he asked with a smile.

She smiled back. She _had_ patterned the boy after her childhood memories of Matthew Fraggle. Who better to be the hero?

"I thought so. I also came to ask you about something else."

He suddenly looked nervous, she saw. "What is it?"

"Well... I really like stories, and I'd like to tell them myself. Would you teach me?"

Surprised, she asked, "Do you want to be my apprentice?"

"Yes."

She lifted her glasses and looked at him. She shouldn't be so startled, she thought. He had heard most of her tales more than once. He used to tell her stories of his own, back when he was little. If she had had ever considered taking an apprentice, he would have been the first Fraggle to come to mind. She said, "Then tell me a story."

"Um, all right," he said. "Which one?"

"How about The Great and Wondrous Blundig?"

"Okay." He started to sit down in his usual spot, a cushion on the floor opposite the storyteller's chair. She said, "No, this time I'll sit there. You take the chair."

"Oh, um, okay." He sat in the Storyteller's chair.

She lowered herself to the ground—with some effort; she was not a young Fraggle—and then said, "Go on."

He felt weirdly self-conscious. It seemed wrong for him to be sitting here, in her chair. He began, "The Wondrous Blundig was already a legend back when legends were still being made. Nobody knew where she would come from or what she would look like, but everyone knew that when she came she would replace the ruler of Fraggle Rock.

"The legend had been around for so long that nobody believed it would happen in their lifetime, and lived their lives as if she were only a story. They survived in the rock without singing or dancing, concerned only with safety and survival.

"When she finally did appear, the leader of the Fraggles didn't believe she was real. He believed her to be an upstart using the legend to seize power, and imprisoned her and her companions, No-Neck and Roughchin. But the legend said that she would move the Sacred Boulders, so to prove that she was a fake he made her try. When, at her command, the boulders did move, his people abandoned him and made her their leader.

"Instead of commanding them, as the previous leader had, she showed them how Fraggles were meant to live. She taught them to laugh and dance and sing, to take joy in life instead of merely surviving, and to lead themselves and each other rather than having rulers and laws. They saw that this was a better way to live, and when she was done and left them again the old leader didn't try to take back his role. Even he was happy living for pleasure rather than power, as all Fraggles should.

"Nobody knew where Blundig and her companions went afterward. They may have spread the good word to other Fraggle colonies."

Janken stopped. When the Storyteller didn't speak immediately, he began to feel embarrassed. He knew that that hadn't been a good telling at all. It was too short. He had repeated words and used awkward phrases. But, worst of all, it was merely an account rather than a story, telling the listener what happened rather than showing them. No dialogue, no flavor, no life. When the Storyteller spoke, you didn't see her and hear her words, you saw and heard her story. He said, "Sorry, that wasn't very good at all."

"It wasn't bad," she said kindly.

"Thanks, but I can't really think when I'm trying to tell a story. When I'm writing things down I can stop and think how to say it, but... I guess I talk first draft." He got off the Storyteller's chair. "Maybe I could write down the stories you tell that aren't already written down?"

"That would be fine. And you can practice telling some more. That was only your first try, after all."

"Yeah, thanks," he said with a weak attempt at a smile.

* * *

><p>He walked quickly back to his cave, his hands clasped behind his back. He could hardly believe how bad his try at storytelling had been. He'd told stories before and done much better, but they had only been short flights of fancy he had made up. It was easy to tell stories out of your own brain. But a storyteller passed on all forms of Fraggle lore, fiction and fact and everything in between. It was important that it be remembered, and who would remember a dull recitation like his? A storyteller had to capture the listener's attention, otherwise he was just wasting everyone's time.<p>

* * *

><p>Mica was there when he came back in. She had a loaf of bread. "Boober brought this by. How did it go?" She turned to him and saw his expression. "What happened?"<p>

"She liked the book. As for me learning to be a storyteller, that's no good. I just can't tell stories well enough."

"Did she say that?" she asked.

"No. She didn't have to. I could hear myself. I can write her stories down, at least."

"That's not what you really want to do, though."

"No. But I guess I've got to settle for what I can get. Being a helper," he said, disappointed with himself.

"I'm sorry." She hugged him. After a second he put his arms around her shoulders, but there was no real warmth in the gesture. There never was.

She was beginning to wonder if this was a mistake.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	4. Silent Heart

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 4: Silent Heart<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>Janken came home with a board and some papers. Mica looked up from her sewing. "Hi, Jan."<p>

"Hi."

He sat down, got out some clean paper, and began writing on it, glancing back and forth between that and the sheets he had brought in, which were covered with small, nearly-unreadable writing. This had become a daily ritual: Janken went to The Storyteller and took notes as she told a story, then came back to write it out while it was still fresh in his mind. Mica would wait until he finished to talk to him.

Janken had learned to write fast by abbreviating words, only scribbling down enough letters to remind himself of what they were, so he wouldn't have to interrupt The Storyteller's flow. At first it had been hit-and-miss, but he was getting the hang of it now. Occasionally there were spots where he simply could not decipher his notes, but he had gotten confident enough to fill those gaps after The Storyteller had reminded him that the important thing was the story itself, not her specific words.

When he copied a story out he could hear it again in his mind. Perhaps, he thought, the stories would keep at least some of their flavor in written form, so others might want to read them. And, he hoped, maybe by studying her style he could absorb some of it and learn to be a storyteller himself.

* * *

><p>When he finished he laid the sheets of paper out, with a smoothie on each corner to hold them flat while the ink dried. Then he looked around. Mica was gone. He hadn't noticed when she left.<p>

He looked at the item of clothing she had been sewing for the past handful of days. It was a winter coat made of heavy cloth, with a knitted hood and cuffs of pink Fraggle wool. Winter was over half a year away, but it was never a bad idea to get a head start. He wondered who it was for. Many Fraggles had pink fur.

Mica came back in and saw Janken looking at the coat. She said, "Hi. Good story?"

"Yeah," he told her. "Nice work. Who's this for?"

"Rumple. His coat was falling apart by the end of winter."

"Oh."

"I overheard some Doozers saying that they heard music in the tunnels."

"The Minstrels?"

"Yeah. They'll be here soon, if we can already hear them."

"Yeah!"

* * *

><p>Soon the sound of music wafted into the Great Hall. Soft and gentle, it filled the cavern like the scent of the first flowers of spring and lured the Fraggles from the tunnels.<p>

The minstrels strolled unhurriedly into the Great Hall as they played their tune. Two of them were Fraggles: Cantus, their leader, playing his two-threaded magic pipe; and Brio, with her small, bell-like cymbals. The Fraggles didn't know what the other three were; they had never encountered other members of their species. Murray, who played a guitar, was a lanky, green-furred creature. Balsam was a smallish, leathery being who played drums, and Brool was a large, toothy, furry creature with a surprisingly light voice and a delicate hand with an unnamed string instrument.

The Fraggles listened quietly and appreciatively to the music. Wembley noticed that there was something different about it this time, something sparkly-sounding, but he couldn't tell where that came from.

When that finished Cantus lowered his pipe and said, "Greetings, Fraggles of Fraggle Rock."

Wembley said, "Greetings, Cantus! What brings you here today?"

Cantus answered, "My path led here, and I followed it."

Murray nodded, thinking to himself that Cantus never ran out of ways to say "Just because."

Watching from the window of their room above the Great Hall, Mokey told Red, "They have a new minstrel!"

Red looked down. "Huh? It's the same five."

"When Brool turns this way, look at his shoulder."

Janken was watching from one of the entrances to the Great Hall. The arrival of the Minstrels was always a joyous event for the music-loving Fraggles. Cantus was more than a musician to them; he was also a respected sage. On the greatest occasions he drew things out of them that they had not known possible.

Soon the Minstrels were sitting on the side of the pond. They all began playing a tune. It was quiet and a little vague, as if they only knew part of it. Before long a young, pink Fraggle began playing a flute. She was hesitant at first, but when Cantus nodded approval she continued with more assurance.

Instruments began appearing in the hands of other Fraggles. Wembley went to his cave to fetch his bongos and Gobo's gourd guitar. Up in the room she shared with Red, Mokey began playing a reed horn. Red couldn't play her drum because she was holding her baby daughter, so she sang.

Janken hurried back to his cave and got his ceramic ocarina. When he returned he listened to the flow of the music for a few moments before joining in. Mica, who was singing, recognized the sound and looked back to see Janken standing against the stone wall, gazing at the minstrels as he played.

The music went on for several minutes, developing in complexity as more voices and instruments were added to the mix, each strengthening the original theme. Then, by consensus, the music ended with a chord that filled the Great Hall like a wave of warmth.

Cantus spoke. "We have wandered farther than I can describe, and played this same tune everywhere we went. It is always different, and yet always the same."

"What's it called?" Wembley asked.

"I cannot name it, because I did not create it. It creates itself anew every time it is played."

Murray said in an aside that could be heard throughout the cave, "I call it _Stone Soup."_

There was a chuckle of comprehension. Cantus nodded amused agreement.

The Minstrels set their instruments aside and took off their backpacks to rest from their journey while chatting with the Fraggles. Janken saw Brool reach over to his shoulder, lift something off his backpack, and set it on the Doozer bridge behind himself. The Doozers who had been watching stared in surprise at what they saw: a young Doozer, one whose puff of blue hair was not covered by a helmet and who wore a sash instead of a tool belt. She also wore a diagonal back scabbard which carried a Doozer-sized traverse flute.

After a moment of awkward silence one of the resident Doozers, a redheaded female, said, "Are you a Doozer _minstrel?"_

"I'm a Minstrel-in-training, yes."

The Doozer who had spoken first turned back toward her fellows. _"See?_ Doozers can make music too!" She turned back and held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Cotterpin."

"Hi, Cotterpin. I'm Reed," The two shook hands.

"Wanna come visit the Doozer Dome? Everyone else thinks Doozers can't do anything but work all day. You'll blow their minds!"

"Sure!"

The two Doozer girls rode off in Cotterpin's vehicle.

Cantus watched them go, nodding approvingly. Then he glanced over at Janken, who had been hanging back and listening quietly. "You have been standing there since we arrived, but I have not heard your voice once."

"Uh... I just wanted to listen," Janken stammered.

Cantus told him, "To sing one must first listen. Listen to both what is without and what is within."

"I don't really sing," Janken said, embarrassed.

"Everybody sings, though not all sing in words," Cantus told him. "Once you find your song, you never stop singing it."

"I'll do that when I can," Janken said, more for something to say than because he actually believed. He wanted to hear Cantus talk more than he wanted to say anything himself.

* * *

><p>The Minstrels stayed in the Great Hall for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Other Fraggles came and went, bringing them food and, often, carrying their instruments, hoping that a tune would start. It always did. Janken watched in wonder as, over and over, some Fraggle would play a simple melody, offering it the way a child offers a flower or a newly-found smoothie, and the minstrels would join in, elaborating on the simple theme without overpowering it, somehow making it more itself. Janken stayed the whole time, listening and trying to think of a tune to give to Cantus, but he couldn't. He didn't have the gift for music that most Fraggles did. He had not even found his song.<p>

That thought made him ashamed. Any Fraggle could sing from the heart. All of his family could. It was as natural as swimming: don't think about it, just give your heart a voice, and out comes the truth. He remembered many beautiful songs sung by all of his parents. Even Sage made up little ditties. Yet Janken had rarely been able to do that, not while anyone else was listening. That was one reason he liked the ocarina: if he was playing a flute, nobody could expect him to sing.

Cantus had a beautiful voice, Janken thought, as rich as aged wood. And though he was an elder, he had not faded or weakened the way most Fraggles did; he seemed to grow ever brighter, his colors as vivid as campfire flames. And though he moved slowly and was always calm, his songs were filled with a fierce joy.

As the evening wore on Janken worked up the nerve to speak to them. "How did you become minstrels?"

The six minstrels—Reed had returned from her visit with the local Doozers—exchanged glances. Cantus answered, "There is only one way to become a minstrel, and each of us has done it differently."

"Is it a calling? Something you have to do because you're the only one who can?"

Murray laughed and said to his fellows, "Hey, the rumors we've been planting have finally gotten around!" He told Janken, "Kinda yes and kinda no. There's gotta be something to start with. You can't be a minstrel if the music isn't deep inside you. But after that you have to work hard at it. It's more than just playing pretty tunes."

"I understand," Janken said seriously. "You all travel throughout the Rock—do you go outside the Rock?"

Cantus replied, "We have never found the end of the Rock. It may be that it does not end, it only changes."

"My family has told me stories. How you got my aunt Red to find her song. How you made Gobo realize that everyone sings the same song. How you showed Junior Gorg that he could be the next King of the Universe. You did all that with music, but it's not _only_ music."

Murray said, "You're gettin' it, kid."

"I don't understand it all. I don't even understand enough to ask what I'm missing."

Cantus said, "You are looking past the surface. That is good. Perhaps you will find the answer."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Janken said politely.

Cantus nodded. "It is late, and the answer is very long, young Fraggle. We will still be here in the morning."

Janken could take a hint. "Thank you. I'll come back tomorrow."

Janken left, leaving the six Minstrels alone. As they set up their tents and sleeping bags, Murray said to Cantus, "What do you think of that kid?"

"I think he has potential."

"Potential for what? He didn't sing a note all day. He hardly even played his flute."

"It took me longer than one evening to find my path. It'll take him some time to find his. He must take the first step, and soon."

* * *

><p>Hands in his sweater pockets, head full of music, Janken walked back to his and Mica's cave.<p>

She was holding the coat she had been making, but she was not working on it; her needles and other tools were still in their box. She said, "Hi."

"Hi."

She just looked at him as if she wanted to say something but could not find a way to start. He asked, "What's wrong?

She sighed and put down the coat. She said, "Jan, this isn't working the way we wanted it to. Now I know why."

"Mica?" he said softly as he sat beside her.

She said, "I saw how you looked at Cantus. You've never looked at me like that."

Janken looked away. He could not deny it. She was his closest friend, and he could not lie to her. He said, "It's just a crush. I'm not going to do anything about it. It's not like he'd be interested in me anyhow."

She laid her hand on his. It was warm. "I know. But ever since we moved in here you've been down. I think it's because we're trying to force something that isn't going to happen. Janken, you don't really love me, not that way, because I'm female."

He closed his eyes for a long moment. Then he looked at her hand, still on his. He said, "You're right. Mica, I really tried, and I really _wanted_ to, but... I guess I was just pretending, hoping that would make it real. I'm sorry. I feel like I was using you."

"You weren't," she said softly. She picked up his hand and held it between hers. "You never lied to me. We didn't know whether you're single-sexed or not. Well, now we know."

"If there was any girl I could love, it'd be you," he told her.

She smiled, a little sadly. "We do love each other. Just not that way."

"Yeah," he said.

She put an arm around his back. They leaned together, their heads touching, and were quiet for a while. Eventually Janken asked, "What do we do now?"

"We stop pretending."

"Should I move out?"

"Do you want to?"

He shook his head. "I like being with you. I really do."

"Yeah, me too. And I don't want to move back in with Mom."

He laughed softly. "I wouldn't move back in with my parents. I'd feel like such a kid. And I'd hate to live by myself. I'd miss you like crazy."

"I'd miss you too."

They stopped talking again. There wasn't much more to say. Sometimes it was better just to be quiet together.

The moment was broken when his stomach growled. Mica giggled. Janken said, "I guess I forgot to eat."

"It _must_ be love, then," she teased.

"Ha ha." He squeezed her hand, then cut a slice off the loaf of bread that Boober had given Mica earlier. He ate that, then said, "I'm going to get a radish for a sandwich. Want some?"

"Sure."

He left, then came back a few minutes later with a radish from the pantry. He sliced that up into thin discs and made a pair of sandwiches. They both ate, thinking about different things.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Mica, and Reed are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	5. Long Goodbye

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 5: Long Goodbye<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>Janken did not sleep well that night; he had too much on his mind. He awakened before the Ditzies became active, so the caves were still dim.<p>

Without waking Mica he left the cave and went out to the Great Hall. As usual, it was littered with Fraggles who had bedded down wherever convenient. Off to one side the Minstrels had made their camp. Their sleeping bags and pup tents were arranged in a circle. And, Janken noticed, they were breathing in synchrony, each one in a different pitch. Even asleep, they made music. Grinning, he continued across the hall.

He pushed through the curtain to Boober's cave. Of course Boober was still asleep. And, Janken saw, Wembley was here too. Gobo must be off somewhere, Janken thought. Wembley didn't like being alone at night, so when Gobo was away he usually stayed with Boober.

Janken crossed the cave, his bare feet making no sound on the smooth rock floor. The pantry and kitchen were on the other side of Boober's room. While he was waiting, Janken thought, he might as well make himself useful.

* * *

><p>The sounds from the kitchen did not awaken Boober, but eventually the scents did. His eyes, hidden by his nightcap, opened, and he wondered who was cooking this early. Clearly someone had been in there for a while, to have fired up the wood-burning stove to cook. He sat up, turned to set his feet on the floor, sat there muzzily for a moment, then stood and stretched his back. Now officially awake, he padded over to the kitchen. Janken was at work at the oven. Surprised, Boober said, "Oh, hi."<p>

"Hi, Papa. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I hope you don't mind."

"No, no, that's fine," Boober said. He wandered back out and over to a cupboard. He took down a cup filled with peeled twigs, selected one, and chewed on one end for a minute to separate the fibers into a brush. He scrubbed his teeth with it, then rinsed his mouth out with water.

After he changed out of his bedclothes and put on his hat and scarf he patted Wembley's shoulder. The green Fraggle blinked at him. Then he sniffed the air. Breakfast. Sufficiently motivated, he sat up, yawned, and stretched. "Hi. Whatcha cookin'?"

"Nothing. Janken's making breakfast."

Puzzled, Wembley asked, "Janken? Why?"

Boober shrugged. "He was here when I woke up."

"Oh."

Wembley yawned again, and Boober, after a brief struggle, did too. "Get up, you're making me sleepy!"

"Okay, sorry," Wembley said. He got out of bed and glanced around. Boober pointed at the clothesline, where a clean banana tree shirt was hanging. He would not allow one of his family to leave his home in dirty clothes.

Janken brought in a plate with a thick omelet, cooked the way Boober preferred—with mushrooms, slivered radish, and herbs folded in—and a plate of sliced fruit and quickbread. He went back and returned a moment later with a teapot. They each took some of the food and poured themselves tea.

After a few bites Wembley said, "This is good."

"I learned from the best," Janken replied, nodding to Boober.

"You got something on your mind, Janken? You've seemed kind of, well, quiet lately," Wembley said.

"It's that obvious, is it?"

Boober said, "Since you moved out you haven't been your usual bouncy self."

"Me and Mica, it didn't work out like we hoped," Janken told him with a sigh. "I mean, it's all right, but..." He stared into his teacup.

Boober got up and went to the pantry. When he came back he had a jar of ginger cookies. He put one on Janken's plate.

Janken smiled. He understood the message: _Tell me what's bothering you. I'll listen._ He said, "Mica and I aren't a couple. We tried to be, but it just didn't work. My fault. I just can't get interested in her that way. I'm single-sexed."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out. She's really nice," Wembley said, patting Janken's shoulder sympathetically.

"Thanks," Janken said. He noted that neither Boober nor Janken looked surprised. He leaned his chin in his hand and said, "It's not just that. I tried to become The Storyteller's apprentice, but I'm no good at the telling part. I mean, I'm _really_ bad. It seems that these days all I'm finding out is what I _can't_ do and not what I _can!"_

"Well, you're a good cook. And The Storyteller told me that you're a great scribe," Wembley told him.

"I can copy other people," Janken said. "I can cook someone else's recipes and write down what someone else said and help someone else carry radishes and... I don't know, I ought to be happy. I can do all sorts of useful stuff, but not what _I_ want to do. I'm disappointed in myself."

"You're the only one who is," Wembley said softly.

Janken smiled ruefully. "I don't know about that. I let Mica down, that's for sure."

Boober said, "Jan, you can't help what you are. None of us can. You can't fight yourself or pretend not to be something you are. You'll tear yourself apart if you try."

Wembley nodded. "Yeah. When Boober-"

Boober overrode him, raising his voice slightly. "Life's crummy sometimes. But you'll find something that you want to do. You just need to keep trying new things. You'll screw up some of them, but so what? If you don't take chances you'll never go anywhere."

Janken took a small bite out of the cookie. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then told Boober, "I wish I was more like you."

Startled, Boober glanced at Wembley, then at Janken. He twisted a finger in his ear, then said, "Wha'?"

Janken smiled. "Yeah, you don't hear that a lot, do you? But, look. You love doing laundry, so that's your job. You love cooking, so you do that too. And the same with your remedies. That's the stuff you want to do more than anything, and nobody else does, so you do it instead of dancing and singing and playing all the time, and who cares what anyone else thinks. You made a spot for yourself in the world just by being yourself. I wish I could."

"Well, um, uh..." Boober was at a loss for words.

Wembley said, "Jan, you just need to find out what's right for you. Boober's right, you gotta keep trying, and don't worry too much if something doesn't work out. When you finally figure it out, it'll be worth it all."

"Thanks, Papas. I know you're right. I just don't feel that way right now."

Boober asked, "Do you need someplace to live?"

Janken shook his head. "No, Mica and I are going to stay roommates. We're still good friends. Just nothing more."

"That's good. Isn't it?" Wembley asked.

"Yeah. She's sweet. Um, can I use the kitchen some more? I'd like to make something for the Minstrels."

"Sure, go ahead," Boober said.

Janken went off to the kitchen and busied himself. Wembley said in a low voice, "Gee, I feel sorry for him. I wish I could tell him what to do."

"He's got to work things out for himself. He's not a child any longer," Boober replied.

"I wouldn't want to be in his socks...and, come to think of it, I never was. I've never wondered who my family was or what I was gonna be. It must feel terrible."

"What about when you were trying to decide on a job?"

"I wasn't really _worried _about it. It was you all making me decide. Heh, see what I mean? Before I could get upset about it by myself, Gobo pushed me into finding my job. And almost all my life I've been best friends with him and Mokey and Red and you, so when we grew up we all just eased into being a family. It's like I never had to even go looking for what I needed, it just kinda fell into my hands like a ripe berry."

"What poetic imagery. You ought to tell Mokey."

"Anyway, well, I just hate to see him sad."

Wembley got out of his chair and began to pace restlessly. Boober leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the table, and sipped his tea. "He's growing up. Things are going to be rough for him no matter what. That's what growing up is for. Life isn't all swimming and singing and berries."

"Yeah, I know. But still, I still wish there was something I could do."

"Let him grow up, then. And be there when he needs someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on."

"Yeah," Wembley said.

Sometimes Wembley wondered how Boober could be so blasé. But it wasn't as if Boober didn't care; he just knew that you can't avoid being unhappy sometimes, and it wasn't the end of the world. And when you're sad you could go to Boober, and somehow you felt better because you knew that however bad you felt, he'd sympathize because he'd felt just as bad at some time in his life, and it'd be all right in the end if you just waited it out. Impulsively Wembley put his arms around Boober and hugged him from behind.

Boober let out a startled squawk. Tea sloshed out of his cup. He lost his balance, and the chair tipped backwards and crashed to the floor with Wembley underneath. Boober exclaimed, "Wembley! _Warn _me when you're going to do something like that!"

Wembley struggled out from beneath the chair back, which slapped to the ground, jarring Boober again. As he helped Boober up he said, "Sorry! I just wanted to give you a hug, that's all."

"There are hugs and there are wrestling holds. Do me a favor and ask Red to explain the difference between them."

* * *

><p>Janken, after making sure that Papas Wembley and Boober hadn't maimed each other, brought some omelet, fruit, quickbread, and sweetwater to the Minstrels. As he offered it he said, "Thank you for answering my questions yesterday."<p>

"I suspect that you have more," Cantus said.

"Well, yeah, but you're here to play music, not to be quizzed by me. I'll leave you alone today."

Cantus nibbled a piece of quickbread, then said, "The answer to your question is both larger and simpler than you imagine. You may only understand it by seeing it for yourself."

"My question?" Janken asked, puzzled. He thought back. "Why you all do what you do, traveling around and spreading music?"

"That is a part of it, yes."

"How would I see that for myself?"

"By seeing what we see and listening to what we hear."

"You mean, come with you? I'm no minstrel."

"This is true. You do not have the heart of a minstrel. Very few do. We do not travel the same path—but, perhaps our paths may run together for a while." Calmly he took a sip of sweetwater.

"Leave here?" He wouldn't be the first Fraggle to leave Fraggle Rock. He wouldn't even be the most adventurous. Great-Uncle Matt had spent years exploring Outer Space all by himself. He had even taken Janken up to the surface. Those little adventures had been fun, but there was a big difference between visiting another world for a few hours and leaving home for who knows how long. Sometimes they didn't see the Minstrels for _hundreds_ of days!

Cantus said, "We will be moving on this afternoon. If you decide to join us, be ready to leave then."

"I... thanks," Janken said, and dashed off.

Murray watched the purple Fraggle retreat, then remarked, "We've never had a roadie before."

* * *

><p>Janken rushed back into Boober's cave. "They've asked me to go with them!"<p>

"The Minstrels?" Wembley asked, surprised.

"Yeah!"

"To be a Minstrel?" Boober asked in disbelief.

"No. Cantus said I wasn't one. But last night I was asking him why they travel around, and today he said that if I came with them I'd find out! And they're leaving this afternoon! What'm I gonna do?"

"What do you want to do?" Boober asked.

"I wanna go, but—leaving here for so long? I've never left the Rock for more than a few days! But I want to know what it's like in other places. But why did Cantus ask _me?_ He must have some reason! I don't know what to do!"

Wembley put his hands on Janken's shoulders. "Janken. You're wembling."

Janken stopped jabbering. "Oops."

"Do you want to go?"

"Well, yeah. But I don't know when I'd be back. Maybe not before the Festival of the Bells!"

In a soft voice Wembley said, "You want to go, but you're scared."

Janken stared into his father's eyes. Then he said, "Yeah. What should I do?"

Boober said, "You're a big Fraggle now. If you want to go, go."

"I don't have good enough camping gear..."

Wembley said, "Gobo does, and I know he'd lend it to you."

Janken was quiet for a moment longer. Then he said "Thanks," and left.

* * *

><p>Gobo had spent the night in Red and Mokey's room. He didn't exactly savor being awakened every few hours by a hungry, dirty, or simply restless baby, but Red had to deal with that every night. She needed both sleep and moral support, and if there was one thing he knew about Red, it was that she hated admitting weakness, especially to him. She had given up sports, which were practically her reason for living, this year, and she was hurting and tired and frustrated. He wouldn't make it any harder on her by waiting until she admitted she needed help. Besides, even a crying baby was lovable. Even in the middle of the night, with a full diaper. He kept telling himself that.<p>

Janken poked his head in. Red was asleep, and he did not see Poncle. He walked in and saw Gobo sitting on Mokey's bed, holding the baby. She was asleep. Gobo looked like he hadn't had much sleep himself. Janken asked in a soft voice, "How is Red?"

Gobo whispered back, "Asleep. Let's keep it that way."

Janken nodded agreement. He asked, "Can I borrow your camping gear, Papa?"

"Sure. Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure. Cantus asked me to travel with them, and I want to go."

That startled Gobo. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well... you'd be gone a long time then, won't you? They may not come back 'til the Festival of the Bells."

"I know." Janken gave Gobo a pleading look.

"This is really sudden, but... sure. Take whatever you need."

"Thanks!" Janken couldn't hug Gobo without smushing Poncle, so he settled for taking him by the shoulders and pressing his cheek to his.

"Get Wembley to help you pack. He knows what my best equipment is."

"I will! Thanks!"

Janken left in a hurry. Gobo sat there quietly, thinking. Then he patted Red on the shoulder. When she opened her eyes and turned toward him he said, "Guess what?"

* * *

><p>Janken and Wembley had packed what he would need for the trip. Sleeping bag, rope, pickaxe, flint and brightstone, and other necessities in as small and light a pack as possible. He had found the rest of his family—Mokey and Sage had slept in Wembley and Gobo's room to give Gobo and Red some alone time last night—and explained it to them. They were surprised at first, then supportive. Mokey was, at least. All of his parents believed he ought to go. They must be right, he thought. He felt better about it now. He could do this.<p>

Now he was coming back from the Storyteller's home. There was only one more person to tell.

He found Mica alone in the cave they shared. She said, "Boober brought this for you." She nodded at a pair of thick socks.

Janken had to smile. "That's Boober. Mica, I've got to tell you something."

"Are you going somewhere?" she asked, glancing at the pack he was carrying over one shoulder.

He put it down. "Yeah. Mica, The Minstrels asked me to come with them."

"They did?" He nodded. "You're going."

"Yeah. If I didn't, I'd always wish I had."

She stood and looked him in the eyes. After a moment she said, "You'll be gone a long time, won't you?"

"I guess so."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

There was nothing else to say, so they hugged each other one last time.

* * *

><p>When Janken and Mica went back into the Great Hall the Minstrels were packed up and preparing to move on. Janken was about to go to them when he saw the Fraggle in the swimming hole. "Red?"<p>

"Thought you'd sneak past me, huh? Not a chance!"

She was holding Poncle, who seemed perfectly comfortable in the water. He asked, "How did you sneak past Boober? If he saw you out of bed he'd have a fit."

"It's all right. Dear old Boober doesn't want me walking around, so Gobo carried me piggyback and Boober brought Poncle. Boober even gave me _permission_ to swim! I haven't been in the water for a _week!"_

"Just float quietly and don't strain yourself," said Boober.

Red splashed a handful of water at Boober, then shot Janken a pleading look. "You're gonna leave me alone with this guy?"

"Sorry, Mama Red."

"How long are you gonna be gone?"

"I don't know. Cantus comes here for every Festival of the Bells, so I'll be back then if we don't come back sooner."

"That's almost a year," Red said softly. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'll never know if I don't give it a shot."

Red smiled a little sadly at him. "Well... be good. Be _fantastic!"_

Grinning widely, he set his backpack on the ground and put his sweater on top of that. Then he lowered himself into the water so as not to alarm Poncle with a noisy, turbulent splash. He gave his aunt and little sister as much of a hug as he could. "Next year I'll play rock hockey with you."

"I'll beat ya."

"You kidding? I'm gonna be on your team." He ruffled Poncle's wet hair. "When I see you again, you'll be a lot bigger," he murmured.

A splash behind him interrupted his farewell. "Janken!"

He looked over. Sage was dog-paddling toward him. She grabbed him around the chest and said, "Do you _have_ to go?"

"I'll come back. I promise," he told her.

"You're gonna be gone so long!"

Red said, "Sage, sometimes people do things that are hard because it's worth it. Don't be sad."

Sage played her trump card. "Poncle needs a big brother. _She'll_ miss you!"

Janken had to smile. "I think what Poncle needs is a big sister. That's you."

Sage stared at him, taken by surprise by the new concept. Her, a big sister? She had always been the little sister.

"Will you tell her about me so she'll know who I am when I come back?"

Reluctantly she said, "Okay."

He hugged his sister tightly for a moment, then said, "I've got to go now. Goodbye."

"Bye-bye," she mumbled.

He smiled at her again, then got out of the water. He put his sweater on over his wet fur, as when the air was warm Fraggles were as comfortable wet as dry, and put his pack back on.

"Are you ready?" Cantus asked.

"Yes," Janken said. He was a little nervous, but he was no longer unsure.

"Then let us go. Farewell, Fraggles, until we meet again."

The six minstrels raised their instruments and began their trek. After a backward glance, Janken followed them. When they turned a bend in the tunnel, soft music echoed after them.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Mica, Sage, and Poncle are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Mica, Sage, Poncle, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	6. Musical Interlude

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 6: Musical Interlude<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>As the Minstrels walked the tunnels they played their instruments softly. Each one played for a while, then rested, except for Cantus; he played his pipe continuously. Somehow, he never seemed to tire.<p>

Janken, walking with them, paid close attention to the Minstrels' music. It was soft, and meandered like the tunnels did. It made him think of a chain of thought, moving logically from one thing to the next, sometimes in unexpected ways. Who were they playing for? He did not want to ask; he did not want to interrupt the music with his voice. They must just be playing for themselves. After all, if a Minstrel couldn't enjoy music for its own sake, who could?

They moved slowly, so Janken got a good look at the caves they passed through. These were rougher than the ones he were used to, with a sandy finish to the rocks. The cave floor was coarse and gritty under his feet. They crossed many areas so dark that the only light came from their lanterns. There were a lot of things growing in the lighter caverns. He noticed a cluster of edible mushrooms, and gathered them.

After a time Cantus stopped playing and held up a hand. "Wait," he said softly.

The other minstrels lowered their instruments and stood still. They all had faraway expressions, their eyes unfocused. What were they doing? Oh, Janken, thought. What was Cantus always telling people to do? Janken listened to the sounds in the cave around them. He heard nothing in particular: distant animal noises, dripping water, and the wind moving through the tunnels.

After a minute Cantus nodded, satisfied, and they lifted their instruments and resumed their trek.

* * *

><p>The tunnels darkened as they traveled farther and farther away from the colony. Murray had taken point, and Janken saw that they were all glancing around, mindful of their environment. Whenever they passed an intersecting tunnel or entered a large cave they stopped playing, and Murray or Brool looked in before they moved on.<p>

They were halfway through a large gallery when Janken heard a low growl. It was barely noticeable over the music, but they heard it too, and stopped playing. It came again, and sounded closer.

Cantus stepped to the side of the group to face the sound. Urgently Murray told Janken, "Do what we do, and, no matter what, don't run away."

Murray was untying Cantus's bedroll from his pack. Brio already had hers in her hands. They heard the growl again, and it was definitely approaching. Anxiously Janken said, "Shouldn't we get away from that?"

"We can't. It can run faster than we can, and it knows these tunnels better than we do. Just keep cool," Murray told him.

Something burst out of the tunnel. In the moment that Janken could see it he got the impression of something with no eyes, too many legs, and a dagger-lined mouth as wide as a moss-clam. Cantus spread his arms. His long sleeves blocked Janken's view. At the same time, Murray and Brio raised the bedding, which they had unrolled, and flapped the fabric in front of themselves. All of the minstrels screamed together except for Reed, who played a shrill blast on her flute.

Bewildered, the beast skidded to a stop. It snarled at the Minstrels, then backed away. When it reached the tunnel mouth it turned and fled.

Eyes wide, Janken asked "What just happened?"

Cantus answered calmly, "That creature was hungry, and expected us to solve its problem. We convinced it that we would be more trouble than it was worth."

Rolling Cantus's bedding up again, Murray said, "We bluffed it. Look as big as possible and make a lot of noise, and it thinks that we're something bigger and meaner than it is."

"Oh," Janken said. He began to shiver from delayed shock. That thing would have eaten them if it could. If they hadn't fooled it, they'd be dead right now!

Murray said, "Calm down, kid. That doesn't happen a lot. Usually cave beasts just stay away from us."

"Why?" Janken asked.

Cantus turned back and raised his pipe, which he had still been holding when the creature had come. "This is a magic pipe. Playing it wards off most threats."

"Oh." That must be why they played their music as they traveled, Janken thought. He had wondered why they hadn't taken the opportunity to rest.

Cantus continued, "You must always listen. Listen to the voices of the caves and the creatures within. They will tell you whether the creatures are hunting, or protecting their homes, or simply frightened."

Brool, who rarely spoke, said, "If they're hunting and they come after us, we scare them off. If they're frightened or angry or just not interested in us, we go around them."

"I understand," Janken said. He was still shaky, but the Minstrels were all calm, so this must be normal for them, he told himself. Thankfully, it had all happened so quickly that he hadn't had time to lose his nerve. He'd have looked like a fool in front of Cantus. If he survived.

Within minutes the bedding was packed up again, and they moved on.

* * *

><p>When the group came to a small, open cave the stopped and set down their packs. The cave floor was clean and the dish-shaped pile of rocks in the center was obviously a fire pit. Janken could smell a fresh, running stream nearby. He said, "Give me your canteens and I'll get some water."<p>

"Thanks, kid," Murray said as he took out a metal bottle. The others gave Janken their canteens—no two alike, he noticed—and Janken went off to find the water he sensed. It would have been easier if he could have heard the running water, but his ears were still buzzing from the shriek of Reed's flute.

He found the water, a thin stream flowing down a wall. It wasn't quite a waterfall, he thought as he held bottles underneath it; more a vertical stream. And, he noticed, there were edible plants growing around it. He thought, _Why not?_

After he filled all the bottles he took off his sweater. He found young, tightly-curled ferns and savory mushrooms and even a duganberry bush. He gathered everything that was edible, leaving the rest of the plants unharmed so they would regrow quickly, and made a bundle of it in his sweater.

When he returned to the cave, they Minstrels had already set up their beds and those who had pup tents had put them up. A fire was burning in the pit. Janken handed the full canteens back to their owners, then said, "I found some things to eat."

"Nice," Murray remarked, looking at the edibles. "We can't gather along the way because our hands are busy."

"Yeah, I figured." As Janken spitted the mushrooms three to a stick, the Minstrels took the ferns, berries, and other edibles and began eating. Except, Janken noticed, for Brool and Reed. They ate from their own supplies. Janken was not surprised. He had never known Doozers to eat anything but food pellets, whatever those were—they looked like seeds to him—and Brool had carnivore teeth. He held the handful of sticks over the fire to roast the mushrooms, then passed them around as well.

The group ate, supplementing the fresh food with bread and other edibles from their packs. Afterward they picked up their instruments and, to Janken's surprised, traded them. Cantus handed his pipe to Murray, and Murray gave his guitar to Brio. Brio passed her cymbals to Brool, who gave his guitar to Balsam. Cantus accepted Balsam's bongo drums.

They began playing, and the music sounded strange. But, Janken realized, strange only in comparison to their usual music. With Murray leading the tune, it sounded... Janken knew that there must be some eloquent way to describe it, but he did not know enough about music to call it anything better than "different." He sat quietly and listened, thinking that it was a privilege to witness something that perhaps nobody outside their troupe had heard.

He noticed their expressions. Brio was concentrating; she seemed less comfortable on the guitar than she was with her cymbals, though to Janken's ear she still sounded very good. Brool and Balsam's faces were hard to read; Brool's was mostly covered by thick fur and Balsam's face was stiff and leathery. Murray and Cantus were both smiling, enjoying themselves. Cantus closed his eyes; he did not need to see the others, only to hear them.

When they stopped Murray grinned at Janken. "Surprised?"

"Yes," Janken admitted. "I didn't know you played other instruments."

"To play as one, you must understand the whole," Cantus said.

Reed said, "We Doozers call it cross training. If the whole work team knows every job, then they can build together that much better."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," Janken said.

"Although I'm a little handicapped in that department..."

"Can only play your flute, huh?"

"Well, that and the Magic Horn."

Janken looked at her. She didn't seem to be joking. Murray held the horn so the mouthpieces were close to Reed. She chose one—her mouth was too small for both—and blew. Though nobody was fingering the horn, it played a short, lively tune.

When it finished Reed said, "That's _my_ song. The Magic Horn can play anyone's song. Why don't you try it?"

Janken remembered a story that his parents had told him. "Only if you already know your song, though?"

"Yes. The horn can only play music you already know." Cantus said.

"Then it wouldn't work for me. I don't know my song," Janken said, and looked away.

"You don't? I thought all Fraggles did." Reed said, surprised. Seeing Janken's expression, she said, "Aw, I'm sorry. You'll find it."

"I hope so. Maybe I'll find it while traveling with you."

"That's the spirit," Murray said. "Say, you brought your ocarina, didn't you? Why don't you sit in with us?"

"Thanks, but I'm not in your league."

Cantus said, "Few are, but what of it? Music is not only to be listened to, it is to be made. Music played in joy is worth listening to."

The Minstrels began playing again. Janken took his ocarina out of his backpack, but could not bring himself to play it that evening.

* * *

><p><em>Fraggle Rock<em> and all characters except Janken and Reed are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Reed, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	7. A Different Drummer

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 7: A Different Drummer<br>**by Kim McFarland

* * *

><p>The next morning the Minstrels and their follower packed up their camp, took out their instruments, and continued their trek through the limestone tunnels of Fraggle Rock. At least, Janken assumed it was still Fraggle Rock; he had seen no sign that they had left it. He did not ask; he didn't want to pester the Minstrels with trivial questions.<p>

Janken heard the sounds of activity before he saw their next destination. Many voices, blending into a hum; occasional shouts; creaking. It was not at all like the sound of Fraggle Rock. Well, his colony at least.

The tunnel twisted, and the party emerged into a medium-sized gallery. At first Janken wondered where the Fraggles were. Then he realized that what he had taken at first sight to be brown boulders were alive. Dozens of beetle-like creatures of various shades of brown and gray, all moving back and forth across the gallery. Not creatures, he realized with some embarrassment when he saw that many of them were carrying things or moving carts; they were people. People who looked just like Balsam.

Several of the beetle-like beings broke away from the formation. "Welcome back, Balsam!"

"Thanks. It's good to be back."

"We're still moving. We'll be ready this evening."

"So will we," Balsam replied as he went off with them.

At first it seemed weird to Janken that they were treating Balsam as the leader of the Minstrels instead of Cantus. He glanced at Cantus, who was smiling calmly, unperturbed. Janken decided that, since these were Balsam's people, Balsam must speak for them here.

The minstrels found a flat spot away from the bustle and set their packs down. Cantus told Janken, "We come here every other spring when they move their colony."

"They move the whole colony every other year?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Ask them."

Janken looked at Cantus, who was gazing into the distance. Then he nodded and walked over to the throng.

As he approached he could see that there were two lines of activity, both going between openings on opposite sides of the gallery. The line closer to him was going from the left to the right, and was empty-handed. On the other side, people were carrying small objects by hand and using carts and other devices to move larger things. They were taking things from one side of the gallery—mentally he named it the Great Hall—to the other.

A small being that was lighter brown and less leathery than most asked Janken, "Are you a new Minstrel?"

"No," he answered. "I'm just following them now."

"Where did you come from?"

Other small beetle people were coming over to him. Children, of course. They must be as curious about him as he was about them. He said, "I came from another Fraggle colony, about a day's walk away."

"What's a Fraggle?" another one asked.

Janken could not tell them apart by appearance; they all looked the same to him, but their voices were different. He could not distinguish their genders. He answered, "I'm a Fraggle. So are Cantus and Brio."

"Who are Cantus and Brio?" that one asked.

How could they not know who Cantus was? But then, probably many Fraggles didn't know the names of all of the minstrels, particularly the ones they didn't even know the species of. Janken pointed over at the Minstrels and said, "The tall, orange one is Cantus, and the green one with glasses is Brio."

"Oh."

That probably didn't mean a lot to them, Janken thought. They _were_ kids, after all. He asked, "What do you call yourselves?"

The oldest-looking one said, "I'm Sfufth." It pointed to several others in turn. "She's Fyunch. He's Twing. And that's Kinta and Momota and Eddie."

"I'm Janken. I meant, what do your people call themselves? Like, I'm a Fraggle."

"Oh. We're Thrumb."

"Thanks, Sfufth. Would you tell me why you move every other year?"

All of the children looked startled. Some laughed. One, Janken thought it was Eddie, said, "You don't _know?"_

"I've never been here before," he said.

Twing took him by the wrist and brought him over to the opening in the right side of the gallery. Over the heads of the busy beetle-like people he saw a large construction. It looked like a Doozer construction, he thought, but made of stone. Then he realized that it was carved into the living rock, and furthermore it was _old_. Flowstone formations had blurred and softened some of the surfaces. Twing said, "The walls are all rock, so we're moving out of there."

"Okay," Janken replied.

The small being led him to the other entrance. The cave on the other side was just as big, and the far wall was covered in, as far as Janken could tell, an identical pattern, or as close as the rock formations permitted. "See?"

"I'm sorry, I don't," Janken said.

The other children giggled. Twing said, "The lichen! It's all gone from the other cave, so we move to where it's growing."

The whole colony migrated because of _lichen?_ That made no sense. But there had to be a good reason for it, otherwise they wouldn't go to all the effort. "The lichen is important?"

"Yeah! We eat it."

One of the adult-sized creatures, who was just coming out of the cave empty-handed, told Janken, "We need the lichen. Without it, we get sick. We don't need to eat much of it, but still, after two years it's all but gone, so we move to the other side and let it regrow."

"Oh, I understand now," Janken said. "Thanks. Um, can I help?"

Though the being's face did not move, it chuckled and said, "You're already helping by keeping the children out from underfoot."

* * *

><p>Janken spent the rest of the evening answering the children's questions and letting them tell him about themselves. They were as chattery as Fraggle kids, and after an hour he had forgotten that they were members of a different species.<p>

They were still going strong when a loud drumbeat thrummed through the cave. All the children looked over at the same time. Most of them got up and ran toward the cave they were moving into. In the past few hours the Thrumb had transformed it from a hivelike cavern into a home. Hangings in shades of red and yellow covered many of the holes in the wall; the images on the hangings must identify the occupants, Janken guessed. He noticed as he looked around that the cave walls were covered with fuzzy green lichen. The other cave, he remembered, had been bare and gray.

Janken watched as the Minstrels assembled by a drum made of a hollowed-out, intricately carved section of a huge log, over which a painted skin had been tightly stretched. One of the Thrumb—Janken guessed that it was Balsam, as he was not with the other minstrels—took up a pair of sticks with padded, weighted ends and began beating on the drum. The sounds boomed through the air and thrummed through the body of every being there.

The other beetle-like people began beating on smaller drums, clapping their hands, or banging sticks together, adding layers of percussion over the big drum, which Balsam was playing softer now. The beat grew more complex as everyone joined in. Then, on what cue Janken could not tell, the Minstrels began playing.

Some children had gravitated to Janken. Sfufth—Janken could recognize it by voice, though he could not tell them apart except by size—said, "Clap too! Like this!"

He watched the child. It was clapping in a simple pattern: two quick claps, pause, one hard clap, pause, repeat. What the heck, he thought, and matched that rhythm. The celebration might not have the same meaning to him, but fun is fun. That music was alien and unpredictable, but it was starting to make a kind of sense to him. It fascinated him, drawing him in.

* * *

><p>The music ended on a cue that Janken could not identify, and some of the Thrumb brought out long, planklike platforms bearing food. They set them on short poles protruding from the walls of the cavern, and the people began taking pieces of it. Janken could smell some of the food...and, he realized queasily, it included meat. The children dashed away from Janken, then came back with what looked like sandwiches, if sandwiches were made by rolling bread around the filling. Twing asked him, "Why don't you eat?"<p>

"It smells good," Janken said, "But I can only eat plants."

A small child whose name Janken had not heard asked, "You can't eat bread?" in a distressed tone of voice.

Janken smiled. "Bread's made from plants, so it's okay. It's meat I can't eat."

"Why?"

"I'm a Fraggle. We only eat plants."

Sfufth told him, "Some of it's just plants. I'll show you which."

Still munching on its rolled sandwich, the child led Janken to one of the sideboards and pointed out various things that it judged safe. The choice widened when Janken confirmed that he could also eat cheese. Sfufth showed him how to roll a piece of flat, thin bread into a cone and put food inside, and Janken filled it with thin-sliced vegetables and fruit. Like a salad sandwich, he thought. When he returned to the group the children looked oddly at his dinner. "Is that all you can eat?" Twing asked in a pitying tone.

"Yes, but I like it," Janken replied, amused. The younger children looked skeptical, but left him to it.

* * *

><p>The children talked with Janken, more enthralled with having an alien in their midst than what he told them, until their parents came and retrieved them. Then he went back to the Minstrels' camp. All were already in their sleeping bags except for Balsam, who wasn't there. Maybe he was sleeping at home tonight.<p>

Cantus opened his eyes and asked him, "What have you learned?"

"They move because they need the lichen that grows on the cave walls, and it runs out after a couple of years."

"And?"

"Um, I don't know."

Cantus sat up and looked straight at Janken. The effect was disconcerting; he was used to seeing Cantus gaze off into the distance when talking to him, as if it was more important to hear people than to see them. Being the focus of his full attention made Janken uncomfortable. "Is there nothing more to learn here?" he asked.

There could only be one answer to that. "No! I just didn't want to ask a bunch of dumb questions."

"Such as?"

Janken lowered his voice. "Why they celebrate moving across the cave. I mean, I see _why_ they do that, it makes sense, but why make a party out of it? It looks like a big pain to me."

Cantus said, "This is one of their most important festivals. It is as central to their lives as the Festival of the Bells is to yours."

At first it sounded as if Cantus was going to continue, but that was all he said. Janken said, "I'm sorry, I _believe_ you, there's a reason, I just don't know what it is."

"It is worth wondering about."

"Should I ask someone?"

"You may, but you would not understand the answer, not yet. In time you will, if you listen."

With that, Cantus lay back down again, leaving Janken frustrated. He wouldn't understood if he asked, but he should listen? Listen to _what_, then? Was Cantus playing a trick on him? He glanced at Cantus, and answered himself: No, he wouldn't do that. He was kind and wise, not manipulative. He was known for being cryptic, frustratingly so, but what he said always made sense on retrospect. He was laying out a puzzle for Janken because he had a lesson to teach him. All right, he said to himself as he got into his sleeping bag. He'd figure it out.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and the Thrumb children are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, the various Thrumb children, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	8. Relativity

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 8: Relativity<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>The Minstrels and their follower arrived at the next colony in the early afternoon. Times of the day were becoming increasingly vague, as they had been traveling downward for days, and had not seen the sun in some time. The Fraggles in Janken's colony, though they awoke when the Ditzies began to glow and went to sleep when they faded, still used the sky above the Gorgs' well as a reference for the time of day. It was strange to let go of that, to rely only on the Ditzies and his own body to judge the passage of time.<p>

They were following a stream that flowed through a channel it had cut in the rock. Some of the passages were so narrow the Minstrels had to walk in the water. That was no hardship to a Fraggle, and if the others minded wet legs they didn't say anything. Then the tunnel emerged into a large, open cavern full of Fraggles who had heard the Minstrels coming. Though the Magic Pipe was not loud, its music carried far.

Janken gazed around, awestruck. The cave was almost white. It wasn't as bright as the T. Matthew Fraggle Room, but the fluted patterns on the walls made it even more beautiful. Part of the ceiling was hung with countless long, thin, crystalline stalactites that looked too fragile to be real. They dripped water into a large, shallow pond that had been created by building up the sides of the stream with rocks and clay and narrowing its exit. It was like underground rain.

A green Fraggle, her hair plastered to her head by the water, swam to the side of the pond and said, "Welcome back."

Cantus replied, "It is good to be here."

"And here is a good place to be," she answered in a similar tone.

He nodded agreement. The Minstrels went to a spot along one wall of the cave and put down their packs. Usually the Minstrels set up their camp early; they often played until late, and when you are tired you don't want to fumble around with tent poles. However, instead of putting his tent together, Cantus untied his sash, took off his robe, and laid it over his pack. Then he walked to the pond and slid into the water.

"Catching spiderflies, kid?" Murray asked.

Janken realized that he was staring. He looked away, embarrassed, and said, "I just...didn't expect that. Um, is this his home?"

"Nah. He doesn't have a home, not that I've ever seen, and I've been with him years and years. But he has family here."

"Oh." It was hard to imagine Cantus, the wandering sage and Minstrel, having relatives. But, Janken thought, why not? It's not like he was born of the stone, like the First Fraggles in the Storyteller's legends. And, he thought as he watched him swim, it was kind of nice to see Cantus relax and act like a regular Fraggle for once.

Brio said, "Are you coming?"

"If it's okay," Janken replied.

"It's the friendly thing to do," Murray said. "Water's really important here."

"Well, okay," Janken said. But, not wanting to appear too eager, he set up his bedding first.

He waited until the other Minstrels went to the pool. Unlike the Fraggles of Janken's colony, who normally jumped into the water wearing whatever they had on at the time, these removed their clothing to swim. He took off his sweater and left it on his sleeping bag.

The pond was full of Fraggles talking, floating, swimming, and generally enjoying the cool water. Murray and Brio entered the pond. Brool and Balsam sat on the sides, dangling their feet in the water—Janken guessed that they did not like to swim, and were being polite by paying respect to the custom here—and Reed rode on Brool's shoulder, safely away from the pond. Doozers hated water.

Janken noticed two women, each holding a newborn baby, standing at the edge of the pool. Cantus saw them too, and swam over. Many of the other Fraggles were looking, so Janken assumed it was okay for him to watch too.

One of the mothers presented her child to Cantus, who held it gently in wet hands. "She was born twenty-five days ago. Her eyes just opened four days ago. I'm going to name her Pila."

"What are her accomplishments?" Cantus asked in a serious tone.

The mother replied just as seriously, "Digestion."

"Very good," Cantus replied, chuckling, and gave the child back to her. The other mother, a thin gray Fraggle, looked nervous. She put her baby, which was noticeably smaller than the first, into Cantus' hands and said, "He was born only twelve days ago, so his eyes won't open for a while."

The distress was plain in her voice. Calmly Cantus said, "We will name and welcome him tomorrow."

"Even though he can't see yet?"

"He can hear, and that's what is important," he told her. "What will his name be?"

The gray Fraggle looked even more worried. "I don't know."

"If you don't, who does?"

After a long, uncomfortable pause she said, "I don't know."

Cantus told her, "He will have a name, and you must search for it. When you find it, you will name him."

"How should I search?" she asked barely above a whisper.

"Search with your son. He will tell you."

She said "Thank you," in a defeated tone of voice. She held out her hands, and he returned the newborn to her. Instead of staying near the pond, she retreated from the gallery into one of the caves beyond.

Janken felt bad for her. Cantus had not been unkind, but Janken knew how frustrating his cryptic statements could be, and he felt sorry for her. He waited a few minutes, until the group has dispersed, then swam to the far end of the pond and climbed out.

He went to the tunnel he had seen her leave by. Where had she gone from here? He didn't even know her name, so he couldn't call for her. He walked silently, listening.

Soon he heard another voice. He followed it, and found a grotto lined with smooth stone and decorated by moss and ferns. She was here, humming to her baby with a sad expression on her face. She startled when she saw Janken. He said, "Hiya."

"Hello. Are you a new Minstrel?" she asked apprehensively.

"No. I'm just following them around for a while. Um, I'm Janken."

"I'm Flitch."

"Hi, Flitch. Um... I just wanted to tell you, don't worry about what Cantus said. Sometimes he sounds weird, but he makes sense in the end."

In a low voice she said, "I have to name my son tomorrow. I don't have a name for him. I can't find his name until his eyes open."

"Why not?"

"How can I name him if I can't see his eyes?"

Janken paused. How could he answer that? Why would you need to see a baby's eyes to name it? Poncle, his little sister, had been named the day she was born. He asked, "How do babies usually get their names?"

She stared at him. "Don't you know?"

"Things are different where I came from."

"Oh." She looked at her son. "A baby's mother looks into his eyes on the day they open, and after a while his name comes to her."

Janken thought about that. It sounded like weird mysticism to him, but different places had different customs. He said, "Cantus said that it's important that he can hear. If you can't look at each other, you can still hear each other."

"How will that help me find his name?"

"Well... I don't know your customs, and I don't know Cantus well enough to translate for him, but I think he wants you to listen instead of look. After all, a name's a sound."

She stared at him. Then she looked at her son again. "A name's a sound..." she whispered, stroking his hair.

"He said you'd find a name, and he's always right. You'll find it," Janken told her in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

She nodded without looking up. "Thank you."

"It's all right," he said, and left.

* * *

><p>As he returned to the pond he thought that the more similar a colony was to his, the more the differences startled him. Why wait to name a baby until its eyes opened? It was as strange as celebrating moving from one cave to another. These Fraggles swam and played in the water, but it seemed somehow ceremonial to him. Maybe they also swam for pleasure on less important days. He hoped so they did; swimming was too much fun to be saved up for special occasions.<p>

Most of the Minstrels had returned to their camp, but Cantus and Brio were still enjoying the water. The green Fraggle who had first greeted them was sitting on the side of the pool, her fur half dried. She saw Janken and said, "Did you talk to Flitch?"

"Yeah. She looked so upset. I just wanted to tell her it'd be okay."

As he sat down she said, "She's a little nervous. This is her first child, and she's worried about everything. New mothers usually are."

"Will she be okay?"

"Yeah. She's good at what she sets her mind to do. But sometimes she has to back up and get a running start, if you know what I mean."

Janken nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"I'm Clio. What's your name?"

"Janken. Nice to meet you. This is the first Fraggle colony I've ever seen beside my own."

"Is yours like ours?"  
>"Well... I don't know yet. We swim, and we gather in a big cave, but we don't have a ceremony for naming babies. I think I'd have to hang around longer to see more of what it's like here."<p>

"Mmm," she said, and shook her head briskly to fluff out her nearly-dry hair. Janken glanced at her, then stared. She was tall, and had a straight, pointed nose and a somewhat dreamy expression, but that was not uncommon among Fraggles. His own mother fit that description, in fact. But now that she was nearly dry he could see that her fur extended to her neck and limbs rather than only covering her body. And with her hair fluffed out, framing her face—

She teased, "Am I that fascinating?"

"No! Uh, I mean, I've only ever seen one other Fraggle who looks like you."

"Cantus?" He nodded. She smiled. "That's because he's my sire."

Her _what?_ Her smile widened, and Janken realized how silly he must look, gaping at her. "Um, sorry. I didn't know... Um, I better be quiet."

She laughed gently. "Some years ago my mother asked Cantus to join her at midsummer. He agreed, and I was born the next spring. Perhaps you do things differently where you live, but among us that's a good way to begin a life."

"Um, I just hadn't imagined... um." Now he really felt foolish. Why shouldn't Cantus have offspring? Fraggles were very selective about the parents of their children, and those who were respected and loved were asked to become sires. He wouldn't be surprised at all if Cantus had been invited to many Midsummer Rituals. If Janken were female—oh, sheesh, where did _that_ come from? He thought he had his crush under control. After all, Cantus was old enough to be his grandfather, with the wisdom and experience he had earned as a Minstrel and sage, and who was Janken? A random kid with all the musical skill of a rock beetle.

_Shut up,_ Janken told himself. He was getting stupid. He looked back at Clio. Concerned, she said, "Are you all right? You look upset."

"Yeah. Um, I'm not, I'm just surprised. Look, I'm going to stop talking now and swim. Can we talk later?"

"Sure."

She watched as he slid from the wall into the water over his head, then began swimming underwater. What a funny boy, she thought. He'd be a fine Fraggle when he recovered from adolescence.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Reed, Clio, and Flitch are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Reed, Clio, Flitch, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	9. Timshel

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 9: Timshel<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>All of the colony's dozens of Fraggles were in the pond. It was fairly full, but there was still an open space at one side. Cantus stood in the center of the open space. At the edge of the pool, facing Cantus, stood the two new mothers holding their babies. The rest of the Minstrels and Janken were either in the pool or sitting on the sides with their feet in the water, depending on whether their kind liked to swim or not. The delicate, crystalline stalactites above the pond dripped water, as if the cave was raining gently on them.<p>

The mood was a solemn as a Moon Greeting, Janken thought. More solemn, because this only happened once a year. Baby Fraggles were always conceived in midsummer and born early the following spring. Like a Moon Greeting, the ceremony centered on the pool. What did naming babies have to do with water? Then again, Fraggles love water, so why not?

Cantus raised his hands. Water dripped from his fingertips, rippling the surface of the pool. He said, "Every year the world of stone grows cold and still, and every year it awakens again and gives us its gifts of warmth, of light, and of life. Today we celebrate the new lives this year has brought to us, and to welcome them into our clan." Addressing one of the mothers, he said, "Bring forth your daughter."

She waded into the pond and stood, waist deep, before Cantus. He asked, "What is your daughter's name?"

"Her name is Pila."

Cantus scooped a palmful of water and drizzled it gently over the baby. "Welcome, Pila. Share in our joy, share in our song, share in our lives."

Pila's mother lowered her into the water for the first time. The baby squawked in surprise at the new sensation. She wiggled around, splashing her mother and Cantus, and laughed. The first mother moved off to the side, holding Pila down in the water since she was enjoying herself so much. Cantus then looked up at Flitch and said, "Bring forth your son."

Flitch stepped gingerly into the pool, glancing around nervously. When she stood before Cantus she realized that she was holding her son close, as if to protect him from danger. She made herself show the child's face to Cantus. The baby's eyes were still closed.

"What is your son's name?" Cantus asked.

"His name is Jarin," she said. It was obvious to all that she had rehearsed that line.

Cantus dribbled water onto the baby. "Welcome, Jarin. Share in our joy, share in our song, share in our lives."

Flitch carefully lowered Jarin into the pond. When he touched the water he kicked at it, and thrashed as if trying to escape—but the sounds he made were of pleasure, not of distress.

Everyone in and around the pond began to sing softly except for Janken, who did not know their song.

"Come feel the water flow,  
>Join the stream that connects our lives,<br>Come feel the warm wind blow,  
>Breathe it in, breathe the breath of life."<p>

As they sang they began going up to the two babies, and each greeted the children by name and touched them with wet hands or sprinkled water on them. The babies enjoyed the attention.

* * *

><p>After a while Flitch went over to the side of the pool. Everyone had greeted her son, and she had seen no sign that anyone disapproved of her naming him before his eyes opened. Clio swam over and said to her, "I told you it'd be all right."<p>

"Yeah," Flitch said, cuddling Jarin. He squirmed in her arms and tried to put his face in the water. That was a habit babies had. It often led to choking fits when they tried to breathe the water. Fortunately, it was rare that any baby made that mistake twice. Softly, hoping nobody would overhear, she said, "I hope his name is right."

Clio replied, "You gave it to him, and it's his name now. It's right."

Flitch looked down at him. The name really did sound right to her. She hadn't seen the name in his eyes, like mothers were supposed to, but when she was thinking about names the previous night that one had come to mind, and it had stuck.

Janken approached them and said to Flitch, "I like his name."

She glanced up at him, and for a moment he wondered if he had interrupted something. She said, "Thank you."

He touched the baby with wet fingers, as he had seen other Fraggles do, and said, "Hi, Jaren." The baby, who had had enough attention for the day, did not react. Janken said softly, "When I left home I had a little sister just his size. Her eyes weren't open either. I didn't really miss her until just now."

Clio asked, "What's her name?"

"Poncle. She's light brown, with pale yellow hair. Her eyes must be open by now."

Flitch said, "She was named before her eyes opened too?"

"Yeah. Actually, we don't have a ceremony like this. When a baby is born, its family just names it."

"What do you do to welcome them, then?"

Janken paused, then said, "We don't have a ceremony like for that. Babies are just automatically welcome, I guess."

Flitch was taken aback. Clio looked thoughtful, then said, "I suppose they are. Who would refuse a baby?"

* * *

><p>After a while the Minstrels began playing. Cantus sat on the edge of the pond, his feet in the water, and raised his Magic Horn so the end would not be underwater. Some Fraggles stayed in the pond, swimming and enjoying themselves, and others got out and joined in on their own musical instruments, or sang along, or danced, or all three.<p>

Janken had been sitting on the edge of the pool for some time now. Thinking about Poncle had brought on a mild bout of homesickness, but the festivity was helping to alleviate that. He listened to the skirling of the reed flutes these Fraggles favored, and considered getting out his ocarina, then decided against it. He'd rather just listen and watch.

Mostly he watched Cantus. He admitted to himself that Cantus's age didn't matter; he was strikingly handsome. His fur and hair was the color of autumn leaves, and though he moved slowly and with dignity, the music he played was as energetic and joyous as any Fraggle's dance. And his voice was as beautiful as the sound of the Magic Horn. More so, as it came from a living being. He could not imagine Cantus any younger, and did not try. He was perfect exactly as he was.

* * *

><p>The festivities lasted all day. Fraggles came and went, leaving for naps when tired so they could return to the dance with renewed energy; bringing food, and generally celebrating the heck out of the day. By the time the light dimmed the Fraggles were ready to collapse into their beds, or bed down wherever they happened to be.<p>

Janken had not worn himself out. He lay in his sleeping bag in the dark cavern, listening to the soft chord of the Minstrels' breathing. It was a pleasant sound once you got used to it, and made him hope he didn't snore.

He wasn't sleepy at all. As quietly as possible he got out of his sleeping bag and left the great cavern. As he passed by the pond he heard the plinking of the everpresent drizzle, and thought that the Minstrels would find music in that. They could find music in anything. While walking through the tunnels, they would pick up on the rhythm of falling water, or the sound of rushing wind, or the chirps and clicks of insects, and turn them into a tune. They did it as casually as a Fraggle would balance a pickle on his nose, and for the same reason: for the fun of it.

Janken walked into a tunnel and listened. He had his father Wembley's sharp ears, and if there was a Fraggle nearby, he could hear him or her breathing. It was silent. He walked in.

He was in the mood to be alone. The high of the day-long celebration had worn off, leaving him feeling melancholy and foolish. He was following the Minstrels around, but what for? Why had Cantus invited him? He did not regret coming with them; being in their company was an honor, and he was enjoying the adventure of meeting new people and learning about how they lived, even if only for a day or two at a time.

And, of course, Cantus. Janken would do anything that Cantus asked of him. Cantus had said that to learn why the Minstrels did what they did, he should see what they saw and hear what they heard. So far he had seen them play parts in the celebrations of two colonies. Both were like nothing he had seen in Fraggle Rock, but the Minstrels did not find them strange at all.

Maybe if they stayed in one place for a while he might learn about the people well enough to understand them. That was a thought that pulled at Janken with surprising strength. He wanted to know about the other people—Fraggles and otherwise—that lived in this world. They couldn't be so different, he thought, if they laughed and sang and played the same ways, although for different reasons.

Janken stopped walking and listened. There was still nobody here. This must be a straight tunnel, with none of the side passages and cavelets that made for good living space. He walked until he could no longer hear the snores of the Fraggles in the large cavern, then sat down on a mossy boulder. Sure that nobody would hear him, he began to sing softly to himself.

"You touch my heart each time  
>You sing. You guide, I follow.<br>I hear your words,  
>They fly like birds,<br>Away.  
>Again—<p>

I listen and I  
>Don't know what I've heard<br>I am a flower  
>That would wish to be that bird<p>

Growing in  
>A darkened cave,<br>Waiting for  
>A ray of sun.<p>

In the darkness and the silence, a lone seed rises blindly,  
>In the darkness, blooms for no one, never seeing the sun,<br>Ever reaching, ever seeking for its reason for being,  
>In the darkness of the sunless, silent, lonely cave."<p>

Janken closed his eyes and shivered. Most Fraggles sang from the heart at the drop of a hat, but for Janken that was a rare experience, and a draining one. But it was a catharsis, and he'd feel better in the morning, he hoped.

"I have finally heard you sing."

Janken startled and his eyes snapped open. Cantus stood in the darkness of the tunnel, one hand touching the cave wall. Janken stammered, "I didn't think anyone was listening."

"Were _you_ listening?" The Minstrel asked as he approached.

Janken looked at the ground. "Yes."

"You guard your heart very closely," Cantus observed. "But to hear the heartbeat of another, you must first hear your own."

As was so often the case, Janken thought that he halfway understood what Cantus was saying, but he would only fully understand it on retrospect. He said, "Cantus, why did you invite me to travel with you? I'm hardly Minstrel material. I can barely even rhyme."

"Why do you dwell on what you aren't? What you are, you are. What you are not, you are not."

"What am I, then?"

Cantus said softly, "Music is not at the center of your soul. But I see something in your heart that I have seen in the heart of every Minstrel. It is the reason that we all left our homes to roam the caves, carrying music as our message."

"What is the reason?" Janken asked pleadingly.

"You must discover that. I cannot introduce you to yourself."

Janken sighed. "Please. Just give me a hint. Where should I look?"

For the second time Cantus's eyes met Janken's. "You must follow your own path. If you are brave enough, you may _make_ a new path. It may lead you anywhere. It may lead you through this world, or out of it. You may travel farther than any Minstrel has. You may do things that no Fraggle has dreamed of. "

"I could?" Janken whispered.

"Can you?" Cantus replied evenly. "You tell me."

His eyes still locked to Cantus', Janken nodded.

"I thought so." Cantus touched Janken's shoulder briefly, then turned to go back to their camp. Janken sat on the mossy boulder for a little while longer to think.

* * *

><p>That morning the Fraggles of the colony breakfasted on fruits and soft, sweet breads brought into the cavern by various Fraggles. Janken spoke with some of the Fraggles from this cave as they ate. The Minstrels glanced at Janken now and again, but Cantus appeared not to notice.<p>

When they had almost finished eating Janken returned to the camp. He said, "I'd like to stay here for a while."

"You would," Cantus acknowledged.

"Yes. I'd like to learn more about the Fraggles here. I never knew that there were Fraggles that lived differently, and I'd like to, well, get to know them. And... I think I need to stop and think about what I'm doing." He did not say that he was starting to feel overwhelmed by his quest, not to mention his crush on Cantus, and needed to pull back and get a little perspective, but he suspected that Cantus already knew. "Can I stay here for a while, and continue with you the next time you come by here?"

"Can you?" Cantus asked him.

Janken answered. "Yes. I think I should. By the time you come by again, I'll know what I'm looking for."

"Then I look forward to traveling with you again." Cantus told him.

Janken let out a breath, relieved. The Minstrels began to break down their tents and roll up their bedding. Janken did too. He said quietly, "I've been thinking about what you said."

"You have."

"Yeah." He paused again. "Cantus...thanks."

"You are welcome."

Janken smiled and picked up his pack. He went over to talk to Clio. Murray watched, then said in a low voice to Cantus, "I thought he'd follow you to the end of the Rock."

"He has his own path to make. He is beginning to recognize that."

"Oh," Murray said, nodding. That was as straight an answer as anyone could expect from Cantus.

The Minstrels put on their packs, raised their instruments, and began playing. The other Fraggles watched as they left. Janken watches as they disappeared around a curve of the tunnel, and wished them well.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Clio, and Flitch are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Clio, Flitch, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	10. Left Turn at Albuquerque

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 10: Left Turn at Albuquerque<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>Fraggles bustled about in one of the many large, open caverns that surrounded the colony Janken was visiting. Unlike most caves, these were floored with dirt instead of stone, and plants grew in orderly rows in the soil rather than clinging to the walls, sprouting out of crevices, or taking root wherever else their seeds happened to land.<p>

This Fraggle colony was deep under the earth, so deep that they had never seen the surface world. Janken had tried to describe it, but they could not believe that the stone that formed their world ended somewhere. What was on the other side? Outer space. And on the other side of that? He had tried to describe the sky. They had laughed, believing he was making it all up. After a while he had stopped trying, because, well, what right did he have to go around telling them they were wrong?

Only one Fraggle halfway believed Janken. Clio found it as outlandish a tale as the rest did, but as long as she could remember Cantus had been telling her about other, very different colonies. If Janken told her about the same things that Cantus did, there must be some truth in their stories. She could accept that there were places and people that she did not understand.

Because as far as this colony was concerned there was no surface world, there also were no Gorgs. And if there were no Gorgs to grow food, then the Fraggles had to find their own. Before Traveling Matt had discovered the path to the Gorgs' world the denizens of Fraggle Rock had lived on mushrooms and Doozer sticks. These Fraggles had found a different way to feed themselves: they had created gardens of their own.

As Janken emptied a pail of water into a cistern in the center of the cave, he thought that these gardens represented a huge amount of labor. All the soil had to be brought in from somewhere. They could not run the nearby stream through it to water the plants because that would wash the dirt away, so they had to carry water in. And the Fraggles tended the plants themselves, keeping them healthy and safe from creatures that also wanted to eat them. Because of this, everyone in this colony had at least a _five-hour_ work week. According to Janken's count, that was; the Fraggles did not even consider this to be a job! For them it was simply a part of life: the garden fed everybody, so everybody did their part to tend it. A few days working here, weeding and watering and keeping pests away, had given Janken new respect for the Gorgs.

Time spent in the gardens was pleasant enough because there were always other Fraggles to talk to while tending the plants and fungi. Many of them liked to ask him about his home colony, even if they thought some of his tales were fiction, and they were happy to tell him about the way they lived. He often put in overtime simply because he enjoyed the company.

These Fraggles had many strange ways, but, he thought, they were not nearly as strange as they first seemed. The gardens made sense once you understood that these Fraggles couldn't just go out and gather food. He was learning about other customs, many of which made sense once you understood the logic behind them. Like the ceremony for naming babies. The beginning of life—which, here, was birth rather than the Midsummer Festival—was the most magical, precious event in their lives, so they honored every birth. They waited until a baby's eyes were open because newly-born Fraggles—and, often, their mothers—were too delicate to make such a fuss over. They dunked them in water because water was essential to all life, and, of course, because Fraggles love to swim.

He had been surprised to learn that these Fraggles didn't celebrate many of the things that his colony did. Of course they didn't greet the Fraggle Moon because they couldn't see the sky. What shocked Janken was finding out that they did not celebrate the Festival of the Bells. They treated that all-important day as any other! They found the idea of celebrating the bitterest part of winter ridiculous. He had been appalled at first. After a while he had reasoned out that his clan must have the responsibility of reawakening the Great Bell because they were closer to the heart of the Rock.

Janken finished his task—filling the cistern for those whose task it was to water the plants—and checked around to see if anyone needed help. That was rarely the case, as these Fraggles took Doozer-like pride in maintaining their gardens. They enjoyed it, so how could he criticize it? Well, okay, it did have one major shortcoming: they did not grow radishes. They had never heard of radishes! He vowed to himself that if it was in any way possible he would bring them some radish seeds. Fraggles _deserved_ radishes.

His feet were muddy. Fortunately, the stream he had gotten the water from was also the stream that everyone swam in to wash off after gardening, and it was downstream from the colony's pool so they did not have to worry about fouling the drinking water. He took off his sweater—these Fraggles always took off their clothes to swim—and jumped in.

* * *

><p>Clio looked up when Janken came in, still damp. "Hi."<p>

"Hi. What's going on?" he asked, putting his sweater down on his bed. This was her cave; she had invited him to stay with her after the Minstrels had moved on. He'd explained to her that he was single-sexed, and not for women, and they had agreed that that would not be a problem. They had become good friends since. Life was a lot easier if you didn't complicate it with romance, Janken told himself only half-jokingly.

She said, "They're organizing a wall race. Get from one side of the Central Cavern to the other without touching the floor. I'm going to enter. How about you?"

"I'll watch," he told her.

"Fair enough. It's going to be tomorrow morning, right after the first meal. They're marking the course now so nobody comes too close to the water stalactites."

He nodded. "My Aunt Red would love a race like that. She loves any race, really. She's competitive."

"We've got a few like that."

"Yeah. I wish they could meet Red. Pit them against each other and they'd break all the records or go crazy trying," he said with a grin as he opened his backpack and took out the map he had been drawing.

She came over and looked over his shoulder. He was studying a part of the map that was only halfway drawn. She pointed to one of the exits and said, "There's a passage over here that loops around and re-enters the Central Cavern here."

"Oh? Thanks, I'll look for that."

"I don't get why you want to map this place. Everyone knows the colony," she told him.

"Yeah, but the colony's only the beginning. Who knows what's outside that?"

"Who needs to know?" she replied.

"Don't you want to know what's around you?"

"Not especially."

"Well... I guess that's just a difference between us. Um... actually, not many of the Fraggles in my colony go far from home either, but my family's always been into exploring. Sometimes you find dangers, but sometimes you find wonderful things too."

"Well, if you think it's worth the risk," she said.

He smiled. "I can take care of myself. I was trained by some pretty good explorers. And wouldn't it be funny if there was another Fraggle colony nearby and you never knew about them because neither of you ever explored far enough?"

She drew in a breath to speak, then paused to consider. "I don't think there is, but I know that there are lots of colonies in the caves. Cantus has told me about them."

"I've seen a few. There are even colonies of people who aren't Fraggles," he told her.

"That's hard to believe..."

"I guess it is," he said. These Fraggles lived alone. They had never heard of Gorgs, and no Doozers had ever been seen here either. Was it because they didn't grow radishes? The only people who weren't Fraggles that these people had seen were Balsam, Murray, Brool, and Reed of the Minstrels, and you don't tend to think of people as a species if you only ever see one of their kind. "It's really neat, meeting a new kind of people and finding out about them. It's like making a new friend."

"You do that easily enough," she said with a warm smile.

He smiled back. It was true enough. "At first I thought it was weird that you—this colony—live so differently, but, you know, it's not really so different. It's neat."

"Maybe that'll be your job," she told him. "Visiting other colonies and learning about them."

He considered. "Maybe. I'd like that. But the colonies I've visited with the Minstrels are a day's walk from each other at least, and I couldn't do that alone. I've seen creatures in the caves that could eat me in three bites."

"Maybe you'll find other Fraggles like you, then."

"How about you?"

_"Me?"_

"Yeah," Janken said earnestly. "You're the only Fraggle here who asks me about my colony and actually believes some of what I say. Why don't you do some exploring too? See things instead of just listening to me talk about them."

She laid a hand on Janken's arm. "Jan, it's one thing to hear about exploring, and another to go out in the caves and risk being buried by cave-ins and mauled by animals and falling down bottomless pits and starving out in the middle of nowhere. You make the stories, and I'll listen to them. All right?"

"All right," he replied. He wasn't disappointed; she had declined several times before. These Fraggles never willingly left the safety of their colony, and they did not recognize anything as edible if it did not grow in their gardens. Still, she listened to his stories eagerly, and he kept hoping that someday she would change her mind.

He folded the map up and put it with some wax pencils in a waterproof outside pocket of his backpack. While chatting with Clio he packed his exploring equipment. He planned to be gone most of the day, so he packed three meals' worth of food and water, just to be safe. Exploring could be strenuous work, and it was just silly to have to turn back due to lack of fuel. He told her, "I'll be back tonight. Maybe after Last Meal."

"Be careful," she told him.

"Always am," he replied, and left.

* * *

><p>Janken went to the last cave he had explored. It was a small, rough room, with lots of gravel on the ground and little in the way of plant life. From the look and smell of it, there had been a small rockslide here recently. He drew a "caution" symbol on his map.<p>

There was only one tunnel leading out, and he took it. The passage turned and twisted like a vine, making it difficult to map, but it did not fork. He added it to the map, using the length of his steps to measure distance.

He emerged into a larger cave. The air was clean, and there were some scents that seemed familiar, but he could not identify them. They were not plant or animal smells. He paused, breathing deeply, trying to puzzle out the odors, but they were too faint.

Holding his map and pencil, he looked around the room. The ceiling was maybe three Fraggle heights at the tallest point. The walls were covered in moss and plants, and he saw no fallen dirt or gravel. The rock was stable here, then. Only one tunnel led out, and that was little more than a crack in a unusually flat cave wall. Curious, he knelt down and poked his head into the crack. It was silent; there was no animal lairing here. And there was no animal smell, but the strange odor was stronger. Instinct was not warning him about the smell, and he trusted his instinct.

_Papa Gobo, I wish you could see me now,_ Janken thought as he crawled through the tunnelet. Gobo had explored most of Fraggle Rock. Most, but not all. He was never more excited than on those rare occasions when he found some new, unexplored region. If Gobo were here they could explore it together. Maybe someday Gobo could come here. If the Minstrels could walk this far, certainly several well-equipped explorers could make the journey. It would be worth it, he thought, to put the two colonies in contact with each other. And bring radish seeds.

It was a tight squeeze, and for a while Janken worried that he would have to back out, then take off his pack and try again, pushing the pack in front of himself. But then he hit another unnaturally flat wall, as if a block of slate had fallen in front of the tunnel mouth. It was made of the strange-smelling material, and it gave a little when he pushed against it. He pushed harder, bracing his feet against the tunnel walls for leverage, and, alert for the sounds or puffs of dust that warned of an impending rockslide, managed to move it far enough to squeeze around it. Before going out he listened for the sounds of rocks shifting, and heard nothing.

He wriggled past the obstruction and into another room. This one was almost completely dark, in contrast to the caves he had just left. He glanced back down the tunnel. He could see the light of the mossy room behind this one. And there was a straight line of light along the ground on the opposite side of the room.

The ground was perfectly flat, he noticed, and covered with something like very tough moss. He felt around, and found more of the odd-smelling, flat objects. Now he realized where he was. This was Outer Space. He had found a new link to the surface world.

He went over to the light. It was right along the ground, so he couldn't see under it. When he felt around along the wall he found a seam, then a round metal handle. Standing on tiptoes, he reached up and tried to turn the handle. It would not budge.

Sometimes doors that were fastened shut had buttons to press or turn to open them. He explored the handle with his hands. In the center was no knob to release the door, just one of those slightly-irregular slots that meant that you had to have a special piece of metal to open them. The only piece of metal he had that could open this was his pickaxe, and the creatures living in Outer Space were likely to take a dim view of him hacking through the caves they built. They weren't Doozers, after all.

Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dark, he could see that this was a small room full of squares and rectangles—boxes—on shelves and piled on top of each other. They kept things here that they weren't using at the time. He listened at the door, and heard only the faintest murmur of sound from the other side. There were no voices or other sounds he recognized.

It must be night here, he decided. He would come back later, and hopefully the Silly Creatures would open the door for him. In the meantime he would go back and mark this path to Outer Space on his map. He stuck his head into the tunnel and was about to begin crawling forward when he heard a rustling and smelled a scent that had not been there before. It was the reek of a carnivore, and it was intense. It smelled big and very near.

Quickly he pulled his head back into the room. He was not going to crawl back there, possibly into the mouth of something large and hungry! He was glad he had found this room; if the creature had followed him into the mossy room and cornered him there, he would have been in trouble. But he must be safe here, because there was no way the whatever-it-was could fit through a passage that was snug for a Fraggle. He'd wait it out. He took off his backpack again, searched within it by touch, and found a small box. He opened the box, took out a sandwich, and began to eat.

* * *

><p>Soon, despite Janken's excitement at finding this room and fear of the carnivore blocking him off from the caves, the dark began to get to him. Deprived of light, Fraggles soon fall asleep. Janken wished he had brought along his bedroll. But the room was warm and safe, so after finishing his sandwich and drinking from his canteen he lay down and, using his pack as a pillow, fell asleep.<p>

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Clio are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Clio, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	11. Monstrosity

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 11: Monstrosity<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>There was a soft creak as the door opened, letting a shaft of light into the dark storeroom. A hand reached in and flipped on the light. Janken, startled awake, glanced around in confusion. Before he remembered where he was the door slammed shut again and the doorknob clicked.<p>

Then he remembered. He had crawled through a tunnel and found himself in Outer Space. A rather cavelike section despite all the unnaturally flat surfaces, he thought as he looked around. He put his sweater back on, then went to the door, reached up, and tried to turn the knob. It was locked. He put his ear to the door. He heard voices, raised and speaking urgently, on the other side. He could not make out what they were saying, but the general impression he got was that they were afraid of what they had found in the storage room. Afraid of _him?_ How silly could these Silly Creatures be? He tapped on the door.

The voices cut off abruptly. Hearing footsteps approach, Janken waited calmly. The lock clicked again, and the door swung open abruptly. Janken had an impression of a wall of shaggy blue fur, and then something closed around his neck and upper body and lifted him off his feet.

Janken panicked for a moment, then he began screaming and kicking at the thing holding him. When you're alone and something has you cornered, fight back, show it you're not going to be an easy meal! It was huge and hairy and had too many teeth and horns, and Janken didn't have claws or any other weapons, so he did his best to ruin its eardrums and bruise the arm that was holding him.

The beast glanced around the storeroom, then turned and said to someone behind itself, "There's only one of them. It doesn't look dangerous. Just noisy."

Janken stopped struggling and shrieking. He could just make out other faces beyond the big blue thing. He said, "Um. I'm a person, not an animal. Would you put me down?"

The beast looked at him, startled. He waved one hand and tried to smile. "Hi."

"How did you get in?" it wanted to know.

"I came in through the hole in the wall over there. I was exploring the caves, and wound up here. I didn't mean to upset anyone."

Another, smaller creature squeezed past the blue monster and peered at him. This one was covered in short, neat pink fur, and although it had ears and a beak it looked much more like a person. It—she, he was pretty sure—put her fists on her hips and said, "You broke in through the wall?"

"I didn't break anything! The tunnel was already there."

"A tunnel to a cave," she replied, clearly not believing him. She picked up his backpack, opened it, and dumped it out. A map, writing utensils, a small knife, a box that was now empty of food, a dry canteen, a pickaxe. She looked at the pickaxe, then at him.

"Just go look. It's right behind that box there." He pointed. "I promise I won't go anywhere."

The woman looked behind the box. She stared, then knelt to take a better look. After a minute her head rose again and she said to the blue beast, "There's a cave back here. There are offices on the other side of the wall, but I see a _cave!"_

"What should we do with him?" the blue monster asked.

Janken said, "That's where I came from. Um, could you put me down now? This is really uncomfortable."

The pink woman said, "He's been breaking and entering, but I don't see any damage except that hole in the wall, and it doesn't look like he was trying to steal anything. I think we've found the most inept thief in the world. Put him down, Cheryl. Even _he _has to be too smart to try something while you're here."

Janken understood the implied threat. His feet touched the floor and the hand released him. He rubbed his throat. He felt as if he'd been picked up by a baby Gorg. He said, "I'm not a thief. I just found this place by mistake."

The pink creature said, "I'm going to call the police. Watch him," and left.

Janken didn't know what a police was, but from her tone of voice he wouldn't like it. When Cheryl glanced away from him he grabbed his pickaxe, darted around the box, and dove into the tunnel. He scrambled on elbows and knees, hearing shouts in the room behind himself, half expecting a huge hand to grab his tail and drag him back. When he was confident he was out of reach he paused long enough to sniff the air. He did not smell yesterday's predator, just dust. Lots of dust, making it smell musty. He continued forward, and soon emerged into the safety of the cave.

As he got to his feet and brushed the dust off himself he thought, that had been a narrow escape. He had heard that not all Silly Creatures were as friendly as Doc, but he had never expected them to attack him just for coming out of the caves! He would mark a warning on this part of the cave. Oh—he had left his map and mapping tools behind. Well, no matter, he'd make another map.

He turned to go back to the colony. After the first twist in the passage he found it blocked by fallen rocks and debris.

He frowned. So this was the source of the dust. He looked around the edges, and could not see through to the other side. Rock and gravel filled the tunnel completely. It was a good thing he'd had the presence of mind to grab his pickaxe. Using the flat end, he dug into the pile. Debris slid away, raising more clouds of dust and making him cough. Underneath the gravel was more rock. Large rocks, so big he could not get the edge of his pickaxe around them for leverage.

With rising desperation he tried digging on the other side. That was no good either. Frantically he scraped away the loose material, revealing a core of big boulders that firmly blocked the small passage. There was no way he would be able to pull them out of the way, there was debris on the other side so he couldn't push, and the stones were too hard for him to break. And there were no other passages leading out of this area. He was trapped.

Trapped between a rockfall and Outer Space, blocked off from the Fraggle colony by a pile of cold, unfeeling boulders. Alone and helpless. He put down his pickaxe, sat on one of the boulders, and did the only thing he could think to do. He lowered his face into his hands and began to cry.

It was too much for him. Why had he left home? He had been safe there! If he'd been trapped, they would have come to rescue him! He should never have left to follow Cantus because of a vague invitation and a foolish crush. He shouldn't have left the Minstrels because he was losing his nerve. He shouldn't have gone exploring alone. Why did these rocks have to fall _now?_ It was like he was cursed!

Janken did not notice when a small, pink-furred Monster emerged from the tunnel, a can of pepper spray held out before herself. She looked all around, amazed. She still could not believe that this cave was here. Clearly it was possible; she was seeing the evidence with her own eyes—but _how?_

There was only one exit to the room, and she heard soft gasping sounds from it. Cautiously she followed it, ready to spray at the first sign of danger. She found the intruder who had broken into their office sitting on a pile of rubble and crying.

She stared, trying to understand what she was seeing. She had expected either to find that he had fled, or to pepper spray him into submission. The last thing she had anticipated was to see him crying like a child.

He glanced up, then startled and yelped when he saw her. She was holding something like a weapon. It didn't look dangerous, but Silly Creatures had all sorts of magical things. His pickaxe was on the ground, and she could use that thing on him before he reached it. Eyes wide, he begged, "Please don't hurt me!"

His cheeks, covered in rock dust, were streaked by muddy tears. He was staring fearfully at her pepper spray. She lowered it and asked, "What happened here?"

He told her, "I was trying to go home. But this rockslide had blocked the way back. I can't dig through it, and there's no other way out of here!" He wiped below his eyes with his sleeve and sniffled, trying to regain his composure.

"Your home is down here?" she asked.

He nodded, then looked at the blocked tunnel. "Down there."

Part of her mind was telling her that this was ridiculous; magical caves didn't just appear. She pushed that thought aside, because obviously it _had_ happened, and now this...being...was in distress. She said, "My name's Lana Bea. What's yours?"

"Janken," he answered.

Softly, trying to avoid scaring him, she asked, "Janken, why did you come into our office last night?"

"I was exploring. I wanted to see what was beyond that tunnel. I didn't know it led to Outer Space."

"Outer space?"

"The surface world. We call it Outer Space because it's outside of our caves, and it's nothing _but_ space."

"And now you're trapped," she said, looking at the rockslide.

"Nobody could move those rocks by himself," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

She said, "Come back with me. Maybe we can help you."

"Someone can help me break those rocks?"

"I don't know. But you don't want to stay in here, do you?"

Mutely he nodded. She beckoned toward the hole, and nerved herself to go through. Janken considered retrieving his pickaxe, but decided not to; they might mistake it for a weapon, and what he needed right now was their goodwill. He started to kneel to go through the tunnel, but she said, "No, I should go first so I can explain what happened."

"Oh, right."

The pink woman hesitated a little longer—she was afraid, Janken realized with surprise, even though it was a stable tunnel, and not all that long—then got on her hands and knees and started crawling.

* * *

><p>The rest of the office staff were waiting anxiously around the hole in the wall when Lana reemerged. She told them, "It's all right. There really is a cave back there." She looked at the hole again. Only the end of Janken's purple nose was visible. He was staring apprehensively at the collection of Silly Creatures. She beckoned to him and said, "Come on out, we won't bite."<p>

Janken did not want to leave the safety of the tunnel, but what choice did he have? Reluctantly he crawled out, wishing he'd kept his pickaxe after all.

Lana put a hand on his shoulder and said, "This is Janken. A rockslide trapped him in a little cave on the other side of that tunnel. I know that's impossible, but I saw it myself. Anyway, he doesn't have anywhere to go now. I think we should in-process him."

The others looked at each other. This was the strangest situation they'd dealt with here, and they'd handled some strange cases in their time. It sounded ridiculous, a tunnel to a cave appearing in the wall of an office building, but they had all looked into the hole, and Lana was not gullible... Cheryl said in a low voice, "The Lord works in mysterious ways."

Nodding, Lana replied, "That's the way I see it."

* * *

><p>The blue monster showed Janken a washroom where he could clean the dirt and mud off his face. It had taken him a minute to puzzle out how faucets worked. Then she led him to a desk in a larger cave—no, room, he reminded himself—with windows on one side. Janken stared at them. Streets, cars, buildings, Silly Creatures by the dozen, sky! This was Outer Space for real!<p>

The monster said to Janken, "Did Lana tell you who we are?"

"She told me her name, and I heard her call you Cheryl." Which was, he thought, an intimidating name, perfectly appropriate for someone so huge and spiky, he thought. She was being nice to him now, but he remembered the terror he had felt when she had held him off the ground.

Cheryl folded her hands on the desk. "We call ourselves the TMI. In a nutshell, our purpose is to aid Monsters who have fallen on hard times, and who are willing to do their part to get back on their feet."

Janken said, "Monsters only?"

"Monsters, broadly defined. However, we link with other organizations to get help for other people, and they refer Monsters to us."

"Oh. Um, I'm not a Monster," Janken told her.

She tilted her head. "May I ask what you are?"

He couldn't help being a little amused at the sight of the huge, fanged beast now speaking to him so politely. "I'm a Fraggle."

Now she looked startled. "Fraggles are mythical cave fairies."

Janken patted himself as if to make sure he was all there. "I don't feel mythical."

The door opened. Janken glanced around. A pair of Silly Creatures wearing identical dark blue clothing came in. One said, "Someone reported a B and E?"

Lana intercepted them. "I'm sorry, Officer Faluci. We thought someone had broken in again, but it was a misunderstanding. I apologize for wasting your time."

"Are you sure, Lana?" the other one asked.

Lana smiled. "Yes. We're all right, I promise."

"Okay. Glad it was a false alarm this time."

"So am I."

The two Silly Creatures left. Lana, who had been listening to the interview, told Janken, "'Monster' isn't a specific kind of person. Those who people don't know the species of are often treated as Monsters, and as they suffer the same disadvantages, we aid them too."

He thought about that. "I guess it's relative. There's a creature we call a Hairy Monster. He visits us sometimes. We didn't find out for a long time that he was a dog, and by the time we found out we were used to calling him a Hairy Monster, so we still do. We like him."

"Do you object to being called a monster?"

Janken shrugged. "I guess not. If you've never seen a Fraggle before, I might as well be a monster to you, huh?"

She nodded and smiled. "Most of us here are Monsters."

He looked around. The other people came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Maybe Monsters are just people who seem scary when you first see them, he thought. He said, "You can help me until I can go back home?"

"I don't know about digging through rockslides in magical caves. I don't know how we'd even get tools in there. But we can help you learn to live out here."

He paused, thoughtfully. He hated the thought of being cut off from everyone and everything he'd ever known. He wanted to go home! But he couldn't. And... a Fraggle _could_ live on the surface world; Great-Uncle Traveling Matt had wandered Outer Space for years. He had found many bizarre, incomprehensible places and creatures, but he had survived. In fact, he had enjoyed himself. If he couldn't go home, he might as well make the best of it up here, he decided. He said, "Thanks. I'd like that very much."

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Lana, Cheryl, and Officer Faluci are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Lana, Cheryl, and Officer Faluci, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	12. Phone Home

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 12: Phone Home<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>It was early evening, and the staff of the TMI office were preparing to close up the office. For most, that involved getting as much of their case work as they could to a resting point. It was never possible to clear the boards before going home; social work was never that simple. They simply brought things to a point at which they could pick up the following morning.<p>

The workload had been lightened a bit these last few months by the new addition to their staff. They sometimes hired the Monsters they were helping to work around the office until they got better jobs. This time they had put Janken on staff to give him a little income and keep him out of trouble. Not that he was inclined to mischief but, as they had quickly found out, he had no idea how to live outside of a cave.

They had had to teach him everything from the basics up: where it was safe to walk and when, why you had to exchange money for the things you need, how to tell time, and so on. He was smart, but some concepts were so alien to him—private property, money, any kind of hierarchy—that he often made mistakes. However, when he finally understood things, he did not forget them. It was a stroke of luck that he had come to the surface here, in this office; otherwise he would likely have been injured on the road or arrested for shoplifting on his first day.

His current task was learning how telephones and computers worked. He could not begin to fathom the how of it; machinery and electronics, to him, were as magical as portals to Outer Space. You had no idea how they worked, but they did, and you just had to learn how to use them. He was starting to get the hang of writing on a computer, but he didn't like it much. He understood why it was good; it let you write a whole lot and kept it in one place and you could change things later and it would even check your spelling. However, printed text looked so rigid and impersonal, and in the time it took him to hunt-and-peck a sentence out on the letter buttons he could have written a whole page by hand.

Telephones, on the other hand, were a miracle. They let people who were far away talk as if they were right next to each other! After learning phone etiquette they had him take care of incoming calls, which he did cheerfully. If there were phones in Fraggle Rock, he thought, he could have told his family where he was. They wouldn't yet be worrying about him because he was trapped out here; it would be some time before the Minstrels returned to Fraggle Rock without him. He'd like to tell them about his adventures himself, before they had a chance to get upset. Maybe they could send someone to clear the rockslide away from the other side. But... he didn't feel like he needed rescuing just yet.

Outer Space was fascinating. Great-Uncle Traveling Matt's postcards had made it seem like a weird, baffling place. Now Janken was beginning to understand how things worked out here. Matt had misinterpreted so much because he had thought of everything in terms of Fraggle Rock. Silly Creatures built things, but they were not edible like Doozer constructions, nor were the creatures that built them Doozers. They built things to live and work in because they did not have caves. And many of the 'creatures' that Matt had described in his postcards were actually machines of incredible size and complexity.

Janken could not laugh at Matt's mistakes. Rather, he admired him all the more for exploring this world, voluntarily braving its strangeness and cheerfully sending messages back home. He had blazed a new trail. Janken had accidentally followed that trail, and now he wanted to take it further by understanding the world of the Silly Creatures. He could be the first Fraggle to do this. It would be an impressive thing to talk about back home, but, he thought, what was more important was that someone _should_ do it. They needed to understand Outer Space, because they were all part of the same world. Janken remembered the story of how Fraggle Rock had once been poisoned when industrial waste had been pumped into the caves. If Boober had not managed to communicate to Doc that there were people living there, everyone would have died. But if there were Fraggles who knew how to talk to the Silly Creatures, they would not be helpless any longer. Gobo always said that the better you understood the caves around you, the safer you were because you knew how to handle the dangers. Well, the better Fraggles understood the world, the safer they would be in it.

Janken felt a little silly when he found himself thinking like this. He wasn't going to perform great deeds out here, certainly not on the same par as Cantus and the Minstrels bringing the many people who lived in the Rock together with music, or even Wembley making friends with Junior and showing him that Fraggles were just as much people as Gorgs were. They were the true pioneers. Janken was here by accident, and he was just muddling through because he had no other choice. But since he was already here, he'd learn as much as he could, then bring that knowledge back to the Rock.

Lana said, "Janken."

He startled. He had been so spaced out, he hadn't noticed when she had approached. He said, "Yes?"

"Would you come with me?"

"Sure."

He followed her into the interview room in the back. He'd sat in here often enough during their weekly progress meetings that he was no longer intimidated by the stark, pale, cubical walls. However, she usually spoke to him on Fridays, and this was a Wednesday.

As usual, she sat at the desk, and he took the chair on the other side. She put a folder on the table in front of herself and said, "How are you getting along?"

"Fine. I've out of trouble, at least," he said.

"You're doing very well. Frankly, we're all impressed with how quickly you've picked up on just about everything we've shown you."

"Thanks."

"Tell me, if the cave-in was cleared away and you could go home right now, would you?"

His eyes widened. "Is it?"

"No. But if it was, what would you do?"

Disappointed, he leaned back in the chair and dropped his gaze to the floor. She waited while he thought about it. When he looked up again he said, "I'd want to move back into the colony so I could swim and live with other Fraggles, of course. But I'd want to be up here too. Spend the nights in the colony and work up here so I could keep learning."

It was not quite the answer she anticipated, but it was certainly an honest one. She could not expect him to renounce his heritage. She said, "Sorry if I got your hopes up for a moment. What I'm leading up to is, I see an opportunity for you, if you're willing to commit to staying here for a long time, whether that passage remains closed or not."

"What is it?" he asked.

"We have helped many people enroll in the local university to complete their educations. With a bit more work, I think that you would be a good candidate for that."

"Oh," Janken said, surprised. Lana watched as he thought about that for a minute, then asked, "Um, what kind of things could I learn there?"

"They teach vocational and performing arts." Janken looked at her blankly. "I have some information that you can read. Going there would require several years' commitment. We have worked with them many times before; they're Monster-friendly, and their counselors are very good with the special cases we bring them."

She handed him a booklet across the desk. He took it and flipped a few pages. Lots of tiny print. Writing in Outer Space was always so little, it hurt his eyes to read it without a bright light. There was so much of it, this would take hours. He asked her, "Would this help me? Would I be able to do it?"

"Yes, it would, and I think you could. You're smart enough, and you have the drive."

"Can I read this and think about it?"

"Yes. Tell me what you want to do by Monday so, if you decide to go, we can begin to bring you up to speed, beginning with earning a GED."

"I will. Thank you." He looked at it, wishing he knew more about this. He had never heard of a university before; how was he to decide if he should spend years in one? He wished there was someone else he could talk to about this. He started to get off the chair, then, having a sudden thought, asked, "Would you help me write a postcard?"

Surprised, she repeated, "A postcard?"

"Yes. I want to send it to someone I know. He's a friend of my family. I'd like to ask him about this."

She thought he didn't know anybody outside the caves. "You just need the card, his address, and the postage. If the card is pre-posted, then you just need his address."

"That's the problem. I don't have his address. All I know is that he lives in 'the desert'."

"That's not very specific."

"Is 'the desert' big?"

Patiently she told him, "There are many deserts all over the world, and some are very large. Do you know which desert?"

He shook his head. "No. It's very hot there in the summer during the day, and it gets very cold at night."

"That's what deserts do. What's his name?"

"Doc. Um, some letters to him call him Jerome Crystal."

She wrote that down. "What else do you know about him?"

"He's an inventor, and he has a dog named Sprocket, and his best friend, Ned Shimmelfinney, lives downstairs. And he thinks we're magic, but I think _he's_ magic." He smiled. He knew that sounded silly, but it was true.

"I don't know if I can find out anything without knowing which state he lives in, but I'll see," she told him.

"Thanks," he said sincerely.

They left the office. Janken went back to the reception desk so he could cover the phones and read the booklet.

Lana went to a workroom in the back which was used for confidential work. Janken thought he could talk it over with someone by postcard and have an answer by Monday? He must believe that mail travels instantaneously, she realized. She sat at a computer, opened up a web browser, and after a few clicks typed in a name.

Several minutes later she picked up the telephone.

* * *

><p>"Janken."<p>

The Fraggle looked up. Lana was beckoning to him from the hallway. "Coming," he said.

He followed her into a conference room. She held out a telephone to him. He took it and said, "Hello?"

"Janken Fraggle?"

_"__**Doc**__!_ Is that you?" Janken exclaimed excitedly.

"Of course it's me! Where are you, Janken? Gobo told me that you're traveling through the caves with a band of minstrels." The line clicked, and Sprocket barked into the other extension.

"A rockslide trapped me in a cave with only a Fraggle hole as an exit-"

"Oh! Were you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine! I'm in Outer Space now. I found some Human friends and they're helping me. Doc, have you ever heard of the university?"

"Of course! I remember those years well, when I was a young man studying marine biology. It was a fine time. Why do you ask?"

"They're talking to me about helping me go to a university to learn about things. Should I go?"

"You want to enroll in a university?" Doc sounded startled. "Well, they are institutions of higher education. If you want to learn about the world, that's where you'd go."

Earnestly Janken said, "I can't go back home. And... I'm interested in living out here, not just peeking out of a hole every so often. My friends have been showing me all sorts of things. I want to learn more. Maybe it's time a Fraggle did. Do you think it's a good idea, Doc?"

"Well, now... I don't really know. But you should decide for yourself. If you really want to, then I say do it!" Sprocket arfed emphatic agreement.

"Thanks, Doc. I haven't decided yet. I just wanted to ask you about it. I was going to write you a postcard. Uh, could I send you postcards for my family?"

"Sure! It'd be like old times. Do you need my address?"

"Yes. What is it?"

Janken wrote down an address in California. He said, "Thanks, Doc. Could you tell my family where I am, and that I'm all right?"

"Of course, Janken. These people who've been helping you—is the lady who called me one of them?"

"Yeah. She's been really nice to me."

"Could I speak to her again?"

"Sure. Bye, Doc, Sprocket." He gave the phone back to Lana, saying, "Thanks!" Then he left with the booklet.

Lana said, "Mr. Crystal?"

"Please, call me Doc. Tell me—what do you know about Fraggles?"

* * *

><p>Janken read through the booklet. Parts were difficult to figure out because he had no frame of reference, but what he could understand was that it offered two- and four-year training programs for various jobs. Plumbing, building, art, writing, acting, and other things he did not understand very well. There was a map on the back of the booklet, and it showed the university's location. It wasn't far from here. The booklet even explained how to get there by bus.<p>

When Lana came back to the front she said, "You've got a good friend in 'Doc' Crystal. He wanted to make sure we were treating you well."

"Yeah, Doc's great. He's the first Human friend we ever made. He didn't believe in us for years, but when we finally met... well, we've been friends since."

"Does his dog usually bark on the phone?"

Janken grinned. "Yeah."

Lana shook her head, amused. "No wonder you call us Silly Creatures."

"Um, it says here that the bus goes to the university. I'd like to visit it this weekend. What do you think?"

Janken had a monthly bus pass, and it was his favorite toy. On weekends he used it to explore the city, and somehow he never got lost. "Go ahead."

"I will. Thanks. Thanks for everything!" he said with a wide smile.

"You're welcome," she replied with equal warmth, and patted his shoulder.

He opened the booklet again. His mind was not on the print, however. He was thinking about what he would write his family. He would buy a postcard after work, and write Doc's address in the same spot where Great-Uncle Matt used to do that, and he would tell them about what he was doing now. He'd tell them not to worry, that he was happy—and safe, he added, thinking of Boober.

He mulled it over, then realized that he was composing a postcard telling them that he would be going to the university. He really did want to go. It would take years to finish, but he could do it, and then he'd know what Fraggles needed to know, and could bring it back to the Rock. For the first time in his life, he thought, he had found something that really felt right, like it was what he _should_ be doing.

He wished he could talk to Cantus about it. Heh, if he did, Cantus would only turn the question back on him. _Can you? You tell me._

_Yes, I can_, Janken thought, smiling to himself.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Lana are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Lana, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	13. Veggie Monster

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 13: Veggie Monster<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>Janken sat at a console, looking at the three monitors. They showed different views of the same scene: a mostly-empty stage, with people wandering about. They were figuring out blocking, scenery shifts, and suchlike.<p>

Janken had nothing to do yet. He had arrived early so he could familiarize himself with the equipment before the rehearsal. While the actors were rehearsing onstage he would be practicing on this console, so that when the real performance came around he'd know the show well enough to handle the cameras without stopping to think about how.

Every so often it hit him how funny it was that he, a cave-living aborigine, wound up working electronics. After being trapped on the surface by a rockslide, he had proved himself a fast learner, and he had wanted to learn everything about Outer Space so he could teach the Fraggles back home. He had soon realized that the world was much too big, and that nobody could ever know everything. Even if anyone's mind could hold it all, one lifetime was not enough to learn it all in.

Janken had decided early on that it was at least as important to understand the culture of the surface world's inhabitants. The more you learned about people, the easier they were to talk to and work with, as they had learned from the Doozers and Gorgs. But that too was much more of a task than he had expected due to its size and complexity. Trying to understand everything about the Silly Creatures of Outer Space was like trying to drink a waterfall! so he had decided to simplify his task and become part of this world for now. He would walk in the Silly Creatures' shoes so that, if the need arose, he could act as a go-between.

To that end he had been studying in a university. People learned various jobs here. Janken, being a Fraggle, had gravitated toward musical theater because it reminded him of home. He did not want to be onstage; he was certain that he'd be as awful an actor as he would have been a storyteller. But he liked working behind the scenes, and that way he could still be a part of it. He'd discovered a knack for lighting and camera work. They were a way to focus the audience's attention, to tell people where to look, just as a storyteller chooses which details of a story to emphasize.

He watched the people messing about onstage for a little longer. It would be a while before they began the real rehearsal. He took out a book for one of his other classes and began reading.

* * *

><p>Some time later Janken heard someone approach, and looked up. It was one of the people he'd seen scurrying about onstage. He was about the same size as Janken, and orange-skinned. Janken was startled to realize that, except for his eyes and ears, he almost looked like a Fraggle. He said, "Hi."<p>

"Hi," Janken replied.

"They told me that a new student would be working the cameras and lights for this show. That's you?"

"Yeah. I'm Janken."

"Hi, Janken." The orange guy grinned, and Janken was startled to feel his heart flutter. He had a _nice_ smile. He continued, "I'm going to be stage managing this gig. The director likes to keep things simple as far as blocking goes, so the lighting and camera work shouldn't be tricky."

Janken said, "That's good. This is my first full show."

"This is everyone's except mine, I guess."

"Oh, you've done this before?"

"Huh? Yeah. I've been doing it for years off and on."

"Oh? Nice."

The orange guy looked at the monitors, then said, "I'd better get back. Good meeting you, Janken." He turned to go.

Janken said, "Wait, I didn't catch your name."

He glanced back over his shoulder and gave Janken an odd look. "Huh?"

"Your name. You didn't tell me what it is."

Now he seemed genuinely surprised. "You serious?"

"Yeah," Janken said.

He laughed. "Wow, you must live under a rock or something. I'm Scooter."

Janken paused, then said in a flat tone of voice, "Yes, as a matter of fact I have lived most of my life under a rock," and turned back to the monitors.

* * *

><p>The rehearsal lasted for a few hours, during which Janken played with the cameras, getting a feel for them. By the end he was manipulating and switching between them without thinking about it; it came naturally after a little practice. He would wait to mess around with the lights until it wouldn't distract the people onstage.<p>

They broke for lunch, and Janken left the theater as well. Sometimes he packed a sandwich or some fruits and vegetables. Not today; there was a stand by the campus that he liked to visit. He rode his bicycle over to the tentlike construction that appeared on this corner twice a week. The people here sold fruits and vegetables. Janken could smell how fresh they were, probably locally grown, and they didn't taste of pesticides, so he bought from them whenever he could.

He selected some carrots, apples, oranges, peaches, and cucumbers. As he paid for them he said, "Do you know if you've got any radishes coming?"

"I don't know. If we do I'll save you a bunch."

"Thanks!" He ate one of the carrots, then put the bag into his bicycle basket and rode off.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later he arrived at an office building off campus. He locked his bike to the rack, took the sack, then went in. "Hi, guys."<p>

"Hi, Jan," one of the Monsters who worked there replied. "How's it going?"

"It's going fine. Could I check the hole?"

"Sure, I'll let you in."

The Monster led him into the back and unlocked the storeroom. Janken went in. There, behind a crate, was another door. They had put it over the hole leading into the Fraggle caves to prevent anything else from getting into their storeroom. The door would stop an animal, but a person who knew how to open it, or was reasonably clever, could get through. He took the handle and lifted, and it slid upward easily.

He crawled through the narrow passage and emerged into an open chamber. The air was clean and free of dust, and the ground and walls were dotted with soft pads of moss and decorated by cave ferns and flowers. He went down the passage that led to the nearby Fraggle colony. It was completely blocked by rubble too big to move, as it had been for the past two years.

Janken had not expected otherwise, but he still checked every week. He was no longer so homesick that the sight of the closed tunnel upset him. He was comfortable enough living on the surface, and with Doc's help he kept in regular contact with his family by postcard. But, still, he checked at least once a week to see if the way back had opened.

He went back to the open room, sat on a comfortable patch of moss, and began munching on a cucumber.

* * *

><p>That afternoon he returned to the theater. The actors and director were onstage, discussing the first scene they would tackle. Scooter was off to the side, listening and occasionally jotting notes down on a clipboard. Janken thought, he's probably some big man on campus; that must be why he expects everyone to know who he is. It's a shame he's stuck up, he thought, because he's good-looking.<p>

Good grief, where had _that_ come from? Janken smiled ruefully at himself. As usual, he was attracted to the wrong guys. Oh well, it would pass. Scooter was only a Silly Creature, after all.

* * *

><p>They ran through the first few scenes, working out staging and blocking as they went. Janken made some notes on his copy of the script. He wouldn't be able to make decisions on camera angles and lighting until they had a better idea of what they were doing onstage, he knew, but he was getting more familiar with the material.<p>

By evening everyone had had enough, and after taking some time for discussion the rest of the crew left for the evening. Janken was shutting down the console when Scooter walked over. Janken glanced up, then asked, "Do you have notes for me?"

"No, it's too early for that. Um, I think we started off on the wrong foot back there. What say we do a retake?"

Janken cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Sorry if I insulted you. I was just joking around. I'm so used to being recognized, and treated funny because of it. I thought you were pulling my leg." He put his hands in his jacket pockets and smiled sheepishly.

He sounded sincere, Janken thought. He'd meet him halfway. "I guess I haven't gotten around much. Where would I have heard of you?"

Scooter shrugged. "Never mind. It's kinda nice not to be recognized for once. What do you say we forget it?"

"Sure," Janken replied.

"So... where're you from? I can't place your accent."

"I'm from around here. I picked this up from my parents," Janken said. He didn't make a habit of telling people he was a Fraggle; it only begged more questions. People didn't really want to hear his life story in response to a casual question anyway.

"Oh. Say, want to grab a bite?"

Janken glanced at the clock on the console. "Thanks, but I have to get going."

"Oh, meeting a girl?" Scooter said with a smile.

"Nah. I work in the evenings."

They started toward the exit. Scooter said, "Night job? That's tough."

"Not really. I like it. When I finish the shelving I can study or read."

"Oh," Scooter said, nodding.

Janken's bicycle was leaning against the wall by the exit. Scooter held the door while Janken walked it out. Janken put the bag in the basket. He said, "Besides, if I had a date it wouldn't be with a girl."

Scooter said, "Oh... okay. See you tomorrow."

"See you," Janken said, swung his leg over the bike, and pedaled off.

Janken was pleased and a little relieved. Scooter had been surprised, but only momentarily, and it hadn't bothered him. He might be worth getting to know after all.

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Scooter are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	14. Oblique Angle

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 14: Oblique Angle<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, the first one Janken and Scooter had had free in months. The university's most recent theatrical production had finally ended its run, so Scooter wasn't needed as a stage manager and Janken didn't have any lights and cameras to wrangle, and Janken didn't work at the library on Saturdays. Now they were in a park with nothing more complex to do than skim a Frisbee back and forth through the air. Janken thought it was like skipping stones. He'd send a Frisbee back home, but he didn't think the caverns were big enough for a good game.<p>

The two had been working together for the past year. Scooter had enough pull to get Janken for his projects. Janken was good on cameras, plus he could think quickly, so ad-libs and unexpected happenings didn't throw him. Janken wasn't sure why Scooter thought that was so important, as such events were not terribly common in university productions, but he wasn't going to say no. He enjoyed working with him. He was a good stage manager, and had taken Janken under his wing and taught him all sorts of things about the live stage that he wouldn't have learned in a class. Plus, he was a nice guy, and cute as heck. Janken was glad that his first impression of him—an egotistic twerp—had been wrong.

Janken caught the disc between two hands and slung it back. He aimed slightly to the side, but put a bit of spin on it so it would curve back toward Scooter. As he did, he smiled at himself. He had long ago admitted to himself that he was attracted to this Silly Creature. Now that Janken had finally gotten past adolescence his hormones weren't trying to boss him around anymore, so he had a bit more perspective. If he was attracted to someone and the feeling wasn't mutual, that was all right; he could still enjoy their friendship. Although he wasn't quite sure that there was no hope... but, never mind, if something happened it would, and if it didn't it didn't. Heh, that sounded like something Cantus would say, didn't it? "What is, is."

The two played until early afternoon. Then Scooter caught the Frisbee and walked over to Janken. "Hey, why don't we get some lunch?"

"Sure. I like food," Janken agreed.

The produce stand was open today, and it was right by some hot dog and other carts. Janken had once tried a hot dog, and his body had informed him immediately and in no uncertain terms that Fraggles were meant to be vegetarians. Scooter said, "I know a place you'll like."

"I don't have much on me," Janken said uncomfortably.

Scooter waved dismissively. "I'll get it."

They got on their bicycles, and Scooter led Janken to a restaurant in an outside mall. Janken didn't usually go to restaurants; they were more expensive than he liked, and the idea of telling someone you didn't know to prepare food for you felt cold and impersonal. But when in Outer Space, act like a Silly Creature.

Janken followed Scooter in. Scooter went up to the counter and ordered two salad bars. After taking payment the cashier waved him through. At the end of the line were some trays with large plates. Scooter took one, and Janken took another. He led Janken to the salad bar and said, "Load up and let's get a table."

Janken stared at the salad bar. He was expecting lettuce, tomatoes, maybe a few other light vegetables, and a bunch of heavy dressings. Spread before him were an array of all sorts of vegetables, some of which he didn't recognize, plus eggs, pasta, french bread, nuts, fruit, and other things. He stepped up and eagerly began loading a little of everything onto his plate. He didn't want to miss anything. Amused, Scooter followed behind. He certainly wasn't going to go in front of Janken and risk getting between him and something he wanted. He did point out the bacon bits so Janken wouldn't have an unpleasant surprise.

They claimed a table, and for a while ate without talking. Janken was giving all his attention to the food, first eating one of each item separately, then trying combinations. Scooter had never seen anyone devote such attention to garden food.

When half of his food was gone Janken looked up. "This is good," he understated.

"I thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"You're not kidding. There are things there I've never tasted before! Restaurants usually aren't my thing, but I'll make an exception for this. Thanks!"

"Glad you like it," Scooter said.

"Mm-hm," Janken said.

After a while Janken went back for a small plate of seconds. While he was grazing Scooter got some ice cream from the machine in the back. He remarked, "I've never seen someone get so excited over a salad."

Janken looked up. "This is how we eat where I come from! Except we don't have this many different kinds of food at one time. Things grow at different times." He examined a forkful of bean sprouts. "I wonder if we could grow this."

"I don't know. I never tried gardening."

"I'll look it up. Convenient that I work in the library, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So, what're you doing tonight?" Janken asked.

Scooter sighed, "I'll be going out with my sister."

Janken looked up. "You don't sound too happy about that."

"Oh, I like my sister fine, but it's a double date."

"Double date?" Janken asked, puzzled.

Janken had odd gaps in his knowledge. By now Scooter was used to them. "She's got this idea that I need to get out and meet people more, so she sets it up so we go out on dates together. She has someone, and picks one of her girl friends for me." He shook his head. "I guess it's fun, but it never goes anywhere."

"Why not?" Janked asked.

"I don't know. Nothing happens, that's all. I've made a few friends that way, but, well, it always ends up as 'just friends'. Skeeter means well, but I'm getting tired of it." And too many people recognized him and treated him funny. That was something that Janken had never done. Scooter was glad for that particular gap in Janken's knowledge. To change the topic, he lowered his voice and asked, "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Dating? Nope," Janken replied. "I never saw the point in it."

"What do you mean?"

Janken explained, "I don't like the premise. It's like you're auditioning someone for a part in your life. If you don't know a person well enough to know if you even _like_ each other, why even think about _that?_ I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I want to make friends, and if something happens to develop from there..." He smiled at Scooter.

Scooter nodded understanding. "Yeah."

"But I did try it once..." Janken admitted.

"Didn't go well?" Scooter guessed.

"Nope. A girl I really liked and I decided we were going to be a couple. We'd been really close friends for a long time, and I thought it'd be perfect, but...no good. The problem was, she was a girl and I'm gay, and neither of those were going to change. We just made each other unhappy. After we figured that out we stopped trying to force it and went back to being good friends. I never tried that again." He smiled sheepishly at Scooter. "Kind of a dumb story, huh?"

"It doesn't sound dumb to me," Scooter said.

"Thanks. I guess everyone makes silly mistakes when they're trying to figure themselves out. Right after that I got a crush on someone, who... well, long story short, I was pretty sure he wasn't interested, so I never said a thing. Mostly I think that was the right thing to do, but sometimes I wonder if it was really honest." He realized that he had been pushing his food around on his plate while he had been talking, and stuffed a forkful of raw cauliflower into his mouth. He was hoping that Scooter would be kind enough to change the topic, but he just looked sympathetic and waited for Janken to continue. Janken swallowed and said, "It's been a while since I've had an evening all to myself. I'll go see a movie at the library."

"They show movies there?"

"Sort of. You know you can check out DVDs and videotapes, right? They have an AV room in the back with monitors and headphones in little cubbies. You choose something, ask 'em to play it, then put on the headphones and watch. I've seen lots of movies that way."

"Huh, I didn't know about that."

"Not many people do, I guess. I don't see a lot of other people there."

"What kind of movies do you watch?"

"I've been trying a little of this and a little of that. I guess I gravitate to musicals, though. What a surprise, huh?"

"Yeah," Scooter said, grinning.

"I keep coming back to _The Wizard of Oz_, though. They must be getting sick of playing it for me."

"Ever seen it in a theater?"

"No. Do they show movies that old?"

"Not often." Scooter thought a bit. There were some movies that you really should see in a theater at least once. "It's really something on a big screen."

"If they ever show it in a theater around here I'll go, then. Maybe someone'll be showing it around Christmas."

"Probably," Scooter said.

* * *

><p>That evening, when Scooter met up with Skeeter, he told her, "Sis—don't set up any more of these, all right?"<p>

Surprised, she asked, "What's the matter?"

"I've made other plans, that's all."

"What, hanging around with those Muppets? Come on, you need to get out more, little bro."

He did not rise to the bait. "I've just made my own plans, that's all."

Grinning, she said, "Is it with anyone I know?"

"No, it's not."

Her grin widened. "Aha! Well, good for you. But you're not flaking out on tonight, are you?"

"No, I wouldn't do that."

"Good. Well, c'mon."

* * *

><p>The next afternoon Scooter was already in the theater when Janken came in. Janken thought he'd get there a bit early and tweak some of the lights to focus the stage illumination a bit more tightly while nobody was there, but it looked as if Scooter had been there a while already. He was messing around with the scenery and props, marking down things that needed to be repaired or touched up for future productions. Janken walked over and said, "Need any help?"<p>

"Yeah. Mind marking things down while I check them out?"

"Sure."

Scooter gave Janken the clipboard. He went over to a section of building and looked it over. "This was wobbling when they slid it onstage the last few times. Some nails pulled loose from the support strut. Needs to be fixed."

"Yeah," Janken said, marking it down.

Scooter slid another piece back and forth. It squeaked and pulled to the right. Scooter crouched down and looked at a wheel. "Needs WD-40. There'll be some around here," Scooter said.

"Got it."

"What'd you watch last night?"

_"Cabaret._ Strange film."

Scooter glanced over. From the tone of Janken's voice, he found it a little disturbing as well. Scooter guessed that he didn't understand the era the film was set in. "Not exactly feel-good."

"Nope. The songs were good, though—

"What good is sitting alone in your room?  
>Come hear the music play."<p>

Scooter joined in the next line,

"Come to the cabaret, old chum,  
>Come to the cabaret."<p>

They both laughed. Scooter asked, "Want to go see a movie with me next Saturday?"

"Sure. What's playing?"

"We'll see."

Janken looked up. Scooter was grinning. Janken felt his heart give a little flutter, and grinned back. "All right."

* * *

><p><em>Fraggle Rock<em> and all characters except Janken and Scooter are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Cabaret _is copyright © . All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	15. Dinner and a Movie

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 15: Dinner and a Movie<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>It was a dark and grimy alley. Janken followed Scooter in, wondering what it was that he wanted to show him.<p>

The two were riding their bicycles between tall buildings that were set close together. Thankfully, the alley was not blocked by garbage or other debris or inhabited by things they would rather not meet. Janken wondered why Scooter was leading him to a place like this. He wasn't familiar with this side of town, but it didn't look like the high-rent district to him.

Scooter turned a corner, then let his bike coast to a stop by a set of cement steps leading up to the back door of a building of worn brick. As Janken coasted in and dismounted Scooter said, "We'd better bring the bikes in."

"No kidding."

Scooter walked his bicycle up the steps with some effort. At the top he pulled a set of keys out of his jeans pocket and tried it in the lock. It didn't want to open. Scooter jiggled the key in the lock, muttering to himself. After a minute the key turned, and he opened the door.

Janken looked around apprehensively as he entered the dark building. The only light was what little came in from the dim alley, and it smelled musty, as if nobody had been in there for years. "What is this place?"

"You'll see. Put your bike here," Scooter said, leaning his against the wall to one side of the door. He walked into the darkness, and after a minute the lights came on.

Janken looked around. They were in a theater. One that had been sliding gently into decrepitude for many years, from the look of it. The wooden floor under his feet was worn smooth, and creaked softly even under Janken's slight weight. The walls showed signs of having been repaired many times in the past. Wiring was exposed, and the intercom and telephones were antiques. Janken was becoming worried. "What are we doing?"

Guessing the reason for Janken's concern, Scooter said, "Don't worry, I'm supposed to be here." He showed Janken his key ring.

"That's good. Breaking and entering isn't my idea of a romantic evening," Janken said. Scooter laughed. Janken was just kidding, of course. Well, mostly kidding. He liked flirting with Scooter, and Scooter didn't mind.

He followed Scooter through the backstage. The walls were marked up, and someone had left construction materials and tools around. Scooter said, "The renovation on this place just started, and I've been checking in to keep track of the progress."

"Oh, okay," Janken said.

After they had wandered around the backstage for a bit, Scooter led him out the fire exit, which opened into a small hallway. On one side was another exit. They went in the opposite direction, and emerged into the seating area. The red seat cushions were threadbare, and some were split or torn where they attached to the seats. There was a balcony up above, and some box seats on either side. The red curtains in front of the stage were partially covered by a white drop cloth.

Janken asked, "How long has this place been closed?"

"Too long," Scooter said with a touch of sadness. "For a long time there was nothing to show here. So it's been sitting, closed up, almost forgotten. Then someone decided it was time to open it up again, but before that happens it's got to be brought up to code. That's gonna be a task. I'm hoping it'll be ready in a year."

"Oh," Janken said. All he knew about construction was that the ones made of radish sticks were delicious, so he had nothing to add.

"Once it's open again...well, we'll see what we can do with it." He ran a hand over a worn seat back.

Janken put a sympathetic hand on Scooter's shoulder. "It sounds like you have memories here."

"My late uncle owned this theater," Scooter replied.

"How could anyone own a construction that hundreds of people built and used? It seems like it ought to belong to the people who use it." Janken mused, looking around.

"Yeah," Scooter murmured, nodding agreement.

Hands in his jacket pockets, Scooter looked around the empty audience. Then he turned Janken and grinned. Janken grinned back; he loved to see Scooter's smile. "Come with me," Scooter said, and started into the seating area.

Janken followed him to the center of the sixth row from the front. There was a large brown paper bag on the next seat and a metal stand with some electronics set up behind them. It looked like the setup that some large classes at the college used to show videos. Scooter turned backward in a seat so he could mess with the machinery. Janken watched, curious.

After a minute of fiddling a light shone onto the drop cloth. Scooter turned around and sat down, then opened the bag, took out a white styrofoam container, and handed it to Janken. Puzzled, Janken opened it. Inside was a little of everything from the salad bar they had visited the previous weekend, plus some radishes. "Wow, thanks!"  
>Scooter was amused. There were two things that Janken got excited about: music and salad. He handed him a paper cup of iced lemonade and said, "You're welcome. I figured we'd have dinner here."<p>

Janken nodded and stuck a straw through the cup lid. Scooter held a remote control aimed over his seat back and pressed the "play" button several times until he managed to aim right. As the DVD player started up and displayed stern copyright warnings on the drop cloth Scooter got out his own lunch: a reuben sandwich and soda. Janken began munching as he watched the distributors' and studio logos. When advertisements for other movies began Scooter, with a little sound of annoyance, held the controller up and tapped until it skipped to the main menu. When that came onscreen Janken exclaimed, "Oh!"

Pleased, Scooter said, "Why wait 'til Christmas?"

A few more clicks, and the opening credits for _The Wizard of Oz _began. Janken watched raptly, not taking his eyes off the screen, munching whatever his fork chose to bring him. Scooter, seeing how enthralled his friend was from the very beginning, relaxed and began eating his own sandwich.

As Dorothy sang, Janken noticed in passing how the grey of her land reminded him of the stone of Fraggle Rock. She sang about how she wanted more, but didn't know where to find it. _I know how you feel_, he thought, not for the first time.

* * *

><p>During a lull in the movie Janken noticed that the styrofoam box was empty. Funny, he remembered how good the food tasted, but he didn't remember actually eating it. He closed the box with the fork inside and set it on the next seat. Scooter, who had finished some time ago, noticed. His mind had been more on Janken than on the movie. Janken leaned back, his arms on the armrests. Scooter took a moment to nerve himself, then touched Janken's hand.<p>

Janken glanced at Scooter's hand, then at Scooter. His inquisitive look was met with a slightly worried smile. He paused, surprised, then smiled broadly and, turning his hand palm up, clasped Scooter's hand.

* * *

><p>When the movie ended they were still holding hands. After the credits finished and the player returned to the DVD menu Scooter reached up, pressing the "off" button. As he was left-handed, and only his right hand was currently free, it took a few more tries that before. When it was off again Janken said softly, "Thanks."<p>

"Glad you liked it," Scooter replied just as quietly.

"It's the second best thing that happened to me today." He gave Scooter's hand a little squeeze.

Scooter thought, he had imagined feeling a little strange about this, but he didn't. It felt natural. It felt right in a way that all the dates he had gone on in the past because it was what he ought to be doing—so he had believed—never had. He said, "Jan... when we first met, practically the first thing you told me about yourself was that you're, um, gay. Did you...?"

"Did I have my eye on you?" Janken smiled. "No. I think I was testing you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how people can be." Scooter nodded solemnly. People could be cruel to those who were...different. Most people weren't, but you sure remembered the ones who were. Janken continued, "I wanted to find out what kind of person you were. If you got upset or disgusted, I'd have known you weren't the kind of person I wanted as a friend."

"I was surprised, but, well, I guess it was mostly because you told me out of the blue."

"Yeah. I remember your reaction. Kind of like 'Huh? Oh, okay.' So I knew I might get to like you. And I was glad, 'cause I did think you're cute."

Scooter had heard that plenty of times, but never in this context. He felt his face warm. "Heh, thanks."

"Welcome."

Scooter looked away. Janken, sensing that he was working up to something, waited. After a minute Scooter said, "You aren't worried about people knowing about you?"

Janken shook his head. "No. I am what I am. Where I come from your sexual orientation's nothing to be either ashamed or proud of, it's just part of you. I'm not going to hide or be afraid."

"I wish I was that brave," Scooter whispered.

Janken guessed what was on Scooter's mind. Not only was he worried about what others might say, he was not as comfortable with himself as Janken was. Even though it wouldn't even occur to him to look down on others, it's another thing to deal with it within yourself. He squeezed Scooter's hand reassuringly and said, "I understand. Don't worry. We'll keep this between us."

"Yeah. It's not that-"

"Scooter, it's okay. I understand."

"Thanks. Um... so, what now?"

Janken smiled. "That's up to us."

* * *

><p><em>Fraggle Rock<em> and all characters except Janken and Scooter are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	16. One Fine Day in November

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 16: One Fine Day in November<br>**by Kim McFarland

* * *

><p>It was a brisk day in late autumn. Janken and Scooter rode their bicycles to the back of their usual meeting place. Scooter unlocked the back door and they walked their bicycles in. Scooter was wearing a warm jacket, and did not take it off, as the empty theater was not heated. Janken's winter fur had grown in, so he barely noticed the chill.<p>

As they walked through the backstage Scooter remarked, "Things are really happening now."

Janken saw what he meant. The renovation had been in progress for months now. For a while it had looked like it was being dismantled from the inside out. Now new surfaces were beginning to appear, giving hints as to what it would look like when finished. Currently the stage was being rebuilt. Janken could see places where trapdoors would be. He looked up. The fly space rigging was completely gone. Too bad; he had liked climbing up to the catwalk to see the stage from above. Oh well, there wasn't much to see now anyway.

Carrying takeout boxes containing their lunches, they went to their usual spot in the audience. It was a little off to one side; the armrest between two seats had broken off. Scooter inserted a DVD into the player. He had not told Janken what movie he had picked; he liked to surprise him. When the menu appeared on the drop cloth hung over the curtains in lieu of a screen Janken remarked, "Now that's a generic title."

"If you just see one holiday movie, this is the one to see. It's a little early, but what the heck."

Scooter started the movie. A few minutes in Janken nearly choked on his salad. He coughed a few times, then started giggling.

"What's so funny?" Scooter asked.

Janken pointed. "If you were a ten-year-old human being you'd look like him!"

Scooter looked at the Screen, surprised. "It's just the glasses."

"Yeah, sure," Janken said, still laughing.

* * *

><p>They watched the movie while eating their lunches. Scooter, who had had plenty of experience with safe, happy, feel-good Christmas movies and specials, enjoyed the subversion of the usual clichés. Janken, whose cultural background did not include Christmas, took it at face value and laughed just as much.<p>

Afterward they sat and talked, arms around each other's shoulders. Scooter said, "Pretty soon they're going to start working on the renovation on the weekends. Deadlines."

"We'll find someplace else to hang out," Janken replied.

They were speaking softly, close enough that their noses were nearly touching. Scooter said, "Too bad, though. This place is perfect."

"We wouldn't be able to use it much before winter break anyhow."

"Yeah." They both had a lot on their plates, with finals coming up, plus another production they were both working at the same time. They had been making time to spend together, a few hours a week just to themselves. "At least we'll see each other backstage."

"It'll be fine," Janken said. "We'll have plenty of time over the break."

"There's that to look forward to," Scooter agreed.

"This year will be better than last year, for me at least. I always get homesick at the beginning of winter."

Scooter assumed that where Janken came from they didn't celebrate Christmas, as that was another of Janken's knowledge gaps. "Why then?"

"I miss celebrating the winter solstice. It makes me think about how far I am from everyone I grew up with. I miss my family."

"Can't you go home to visit?"

"It's not that simple," Janken said sadly.

"Well... is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not about that. But thanks," Janken said, and kissed Scooter on the tip of his nose.

* * *

><p>Later, as the two were picking up their lunch boxes, Janken said, "When will the theater open up again?"<p>

"Next summer. We want to start rehearsals in spring. Wish we had until then," he said wistfully.

"Will it open as the Muppet Theater?"

Scooter looked up, startled. Then he said, "You figured it out, huh?"

Janken explained, "You've been so excited about the renovation. I could tell this theater means a whole lot to you, like it's been a big part of your life, so I did a little research. Looked this place up by address since the marquee is blank. Found out who used to perform here. Checked them out. And found you."

Scooter scratched the back of his head. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't tell you myself."

Janken smiled warmly. "No. You never lied to me, you just didn't tell me everything, and I guess I never asked. Now I know why you were surprised I didn't recognize you at first."

"Yeah. It's been really nice, having someone who doesn't think of me as Scooter the Muppet, but just as plain old Scooter."

"And who doesn't expect you to do the 'fifteen second 'til curtain' routine?"

Scooter smiled wryly. "Oh, yeah. You know how often I get asked to record answering machine messages? Sometimes ringtones. It's not like I'm mobbed or anything every time I go get the mail; I'm not Kermit. But, still... you wouldn't believe how many people still remember that stuff."

"I've been watching the DVDs. I can believe it. Those are great shows."

Hands in his pockets, Scooter smiled. "Yeah, they were. Maybe we can make some more of 'em."

"I hope so."

"Anyway... I'm glad you found out," Scooter said. "I'd have told you when we started using the theater anyway. I'd thought about just coming out with it before, but what would I have said? 'By the way, I'm famous. Want my autograph?' Ugh."

"To tell the truth, I'm glad I got to know plain ol' Scooter Grosse instead of Scooter the Famous Muppet. You're both pretty lovable, though," Janken said teasingly.

Scooter looked down, blushing slightly. Janken was so open and unselfconscious about his affection, as if there was nothing in the world unusual about two guys being in love, that sometimes Scooter did not know how to respond. Not that Scooter found it at all unpleasant... When he looked up again he said, "I wish the theater needed a camera operator. We'll just be doing live stage shows at first. We used to be wired for TV cameras, back when we did the old shows, but that equipment was so old, it'd be useless now. It was taken out, but we've left space backstage left just in case. If we luck out and get a TV contract after the first season, we'll put new cameras in the theater. I can put in a good word with Kermit for you, probably get you that spot. If you'd be interested."

Janken said, "Are you kidding? I'd love to be part of a show like that! It'd be a little scary, filming for TV, though."

"Don't worry about it. You're already pretty good, and I can show you the rest. And, you know, we'll have openings for the show. I know you're a little stage shy, but maybe if you tried something small, like a background part, you might like it on the boards. And, let's face it, with your looks you'd fit right in."

Janken laughed. "Thanks, Scooter, but I've got little talent and lots of stage fright."  
>"I don't know. You tore it up that time at the karaoke bar."<p>

It was Janken's turn to blush. "That was just messing around. Stage lights are too hot for me; I'll stick to the cool, cozy backstage."

"Well, it takes people on both sides," Scooter said, patting Janken on the back.

"Yeah."

He put his arm around Scooter's waist, and Scooter put his arm around Janken's shoulders. They walked together to the exit, dropped their takeout boxes in the trash, then took their bicycles out the back and rode off.

* * *

><p>Scooter and the Muppet Theater are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


	17. Janken's Song

**A Wandering Heart  
>Part 17: Janken's Song<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p>It was a chilly day in late December, cool enough that people dressed warmly, but not cold enough to keep them indoors. Janken and Scooter were sitting on a park bench. The theater renovation was in full swing, with work going on seven days a week, so they had lost their usual hangout. Both were wearing winter clothing, even Janken, who was more resistant to cold than most surface dwellers. He had even put on a pair of leggings—Scooter had gotten him to try blue jeans, but Janken found them uncomfortable—and a knit cap in additional to his usual denim jacket. Yet he was still barefoot.<p>

"I wish it would snow," Janken said. A puff of fog hung in front of his face for a moment before drifting away on the cold air.

"Yeah," Scooter said. "If it's gonna get cold, why not go all the way?"

They got snow in Fraggle Rock, or more precisely in the Gorgs' garden above Fraggle Rock, but they didn't often feel like playing in it because cave dwellers could not completely escape from the cold. Here, Janken liven in a rented basement that was always comfortable, no matter how hot or cold it was outdoors. He enjoyed snow more because he could hide from it any time he liked. He was spoiled, he knew. "What have you got planned?"

"We just finished finals, so the first thing I'm going to do is sleep in and not think a thing about anything I've been studying."

Janken grinned. "It still seems funny. You're in theater arts, which is your _job_, but you study harder than any student. Anyone would guess you didn't already know what you're doing."

"I know how things work with Muppets. That's hardly the same thing as normal theater."

Janken nodded. "Still... sometimes I kind of wonder why you're here. You've got a job. You've told me you don't plan to leave the Muppets."

Scooter let out a foggy breath. "Yeah, I guess it seems strange. The thing is, I originally lucked into my job because my uncle owned the theater. I started out as a go-fer because he wanted to get me out of the house, and if there was one place that would hire me and keep me out of his hair, it was the people using his theater. They were stuck with me. But I really got into it, and a summer job turned into a career. But, still... I didn't have to earn it. I never even went to college because, at the time, I thought 'why bother?' But a few years ago I realized that, well, I've never really done anything on my own. It's like everything's been handed to me."

"So you're getting a degree on your own."

"Yeah. In theater arts, because why study something I'm not interested in?"

Janken nodded agreement. "I understand, Scooter. I'm here for kind of the same reason. Because I can. I'll be the first one of my kind. That was important when I started, and it still is, but it's not the most important thing now."

"What is?"

"Just being in the world," Janken declaimed with a humorously exaggerated Shakespearean gesture, as if encompassing the entire planet. They both laughed. When they finished Janken said, "I'd better get going."

"Okay. What do you want to do afterward?"

"I don't know. Something fun. I'll probably need cheering up."

The two got up and started walking. Janken said nothing more, so for a while the only sounds were those of their footsteps and the crinkling of the paper bag Janken was carrying. Then Scooter said, "Can I help?"

Janken looked over and smiled wistfully. How could he explain that his plans were to crawl into a hole, ring a bell, and cry his eyes out because he was homesick? But he needed to get it out of his system. "I wish you could, but... this is something I've got to do myself. Let's meet tomorrow, 'cause I won't be fit company tonight."

"All right," Scooter said.

Janken thought, at least he had that to look forward to. No matter how lonely he felt today, on the day of the solstice, he had several weeks off and someone he loved with whom to spend it. He could smile more easily, thinking about that.

They walked without speaking for a minute. Then, apropos of nothing, Scooter said,

"Have you ever went over a friend's house to eat  
>And the food just ain't no good?"<p>

Grinning widely, Janken chanted,

"I mean the macaroni's soggy, the peas are mushed,  
>And the chicken tastes like wood."<p>

Scooter replied,

"So you try to play it off like you think you can  
>By sayin' that you're full,"<p>

Janken responded,

"And then your friend says, momma, he's just being polite,  
>He ain't finished, uh-uh, that's bull."<p>

The two walked on, alternating lines in the song and laughing.

* * *

><p>When they reached the TMI office Janken told Scooter, "Thanks. I needed that."<p>

"Any time. What's TMI?"

"They help Monsters. They helped me get into the university."

"Oh? Cool."

Janken had wondered if Scooter would ask if he was a Monster. If he did, Janken didn't know what he would say. However, Scooter didn't seem to give it any thought. Janken stepped through, then held it for Scooter. A big, sharp-toothed, shaggy blue Monster was seated at the reception desk. Janken said, "Hi, Cheryl. This's Scooter. We've been working together on some University plays."

"Janken has told us about you. Thanks for taking him under your wing." She held out her hand.

Scooter shook it without flinching. Considering some of the creatures he dealt with regularly, she was not particularly intimidating. "No problem. He's a pleasure to work with."

Janken said, "Thanks, Scoot. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Sure. Good luck." Scooter patted Janken's shoulder.

* * *

><p>As they walked down the hall in the back of the office Cheryl asked, "How long do you plan to stay?"<p>

"Couple of hours, I guess. I guess I can't really celebrate the Festival of the Bells by myself, but I can't ignore it either." He took a long-handled bell out of the paper bag and showed it to her.

"You don't have to celebrate the turning of the year alone," she said gently.

Last year he had spent Christmas with her family. He did not understand the legends associated with it—they seemed to be several which conflicted sharply—but the messages of the renewal of life, kindness toward those in need, and faith in the benevolence of the world were universal. "Thanks. But this year I won't be alone. I've got someone to spend it with." He smiled.

"Good. I hope you find what you're looking for," she said as she unlocked the storeroom door.

"Thanks."

She closed the door after Janken, leaving it unlocked. He moved a box aside, slid the wooden panel covering the Fraggle hole upward, and went in.

The temperature seemed to drop with every inch he crawled. When he reached the small room he stood up and shuddered. It was cold in here. He took a pair of warm, thick socks—gifts from Boober—out of the bag and slipped them on over his feet. That felt much better, putting something between his feet and the cold stone floor so it would not drain his warmth away. He also had a pair of mittens, but he did not put these on just yet.

He went down the tunnel leading to the Fraggle colony. As expected, it was still blocked by huge boulders. No amount of wishing was going to move them. He sat down on one and took a foot-long daikon radish out of the bag. As he munched on his lunch he thought about Fraggle Rock. Right about now everyone would be clustering around fire bowls in the great hall, huddled together for warmth. The Rock would be slowing down. Soon it would be the right moment. The Rock would stop. Then they would ring their bells and sing, and the world would continue turning. Part of Janken knew now that that was just folklore. The world would continue on its path, cycling between winter and summer, whether the Fraggles celebrated it or not. The importance, he now believed, was for the Fraggles. It tied them to the world and to each other. That was what made it vital.

Janken took out his bell and rang it. The lonely sound echoed away in the cave. Janken's eyes began to sting with tears—

…Echoes?

He rang the bell again. This cave was no more than a room; he shouldn't be hearing an echo! He put the radish down and went back into the main room. He rang the bell, then looked in the direction of the echo. What had always been a shallow, shadowed inlet was darker than it ought to be. And there was debris around it. Another rockslide? Hardly daring to hope, he stuck his head and arm through the crack and rang his bell hard. He heard the sound bounce away, down a long tunnel.

He ran back, put his mittens on, grabbed the daikon, and wriggled his way through the crack.

His first impulse was to run, but he checked himself. Running around in unfamiliar passages was a good way to injure or kill himself. Not to mention how easy it would be to get lost! He looked back and saw the light of the room he had just come from. He searched around, found a piece of quartz with a sharp, broken-off edge, and scratched a mark on the wall at eye height pointing the way back. As long as he kept doing that, making another blaze mark before losing sight of the last one, he wouldn't get lost.

He walked down, looking around and listening carefully as he went, occasionally ringing his bell for the comforting sound it made.

* * *

><p>He walked for several hours. It became progressively colder as the passage meandered downward. He hardly needed to blaze a trail, as he had followed the main trunk, which did not fork. Side passages branched off of it, but no alert Fraggle could accidentally wander into one of those. Still, he kept marking his path, looking back periodically to make sure he could see at least one mark from wherever he was.<p>

Soon, tired and hungry, he stopped to eat some more of the daikon. He had been so intent on exploring, he had forgotten all about lunch. He sat down to rest his feet and munched the savory vegetable. But soon, tired as he was, he got back up again. It was cold, and he had to keep moving to stay warm.

He looked around as he jogged in place, chewing a mouthful of radish. He could find his way back now, then try this in the spring, when it was warmer. He could bring proper equipment. He still had the pickaxe and rope and other things he had borrowed from Gobo. Common sense told him that it was foolish to risk exploring this cold, unknown cave all alone. If he succumbed to hypothermia or one of the few predators that was active in winter, nobody would ever know what had become of him. He would simply disappear.

But this isn't about staying safe, he thought. It's about following your heart. As corny as it sounded, be couldn't give up hope that this passage would lead to other Fraggles. After a little more dithering he decided that he would go on for one more hour, and then turn back if he didn't find anything. He could hold out in the cold that long, especially since he knew the path back to be safe.

* * *

><p>He continued down lower. Stalactites and stalagmites made the shrinking passage into an obstacle course. While wriggling between them he snapped the tips off of a few. He felt a sharp twinge of regret each time that happened; it felt like vandalism. He kept going, though. He had tied his bell to one of his jacket's buttonholes, and it clinked and dinged as he walked. His arms were tightly folded across his chest, his hands under his arms. It was <em>cold.<em>

The tunnel led into a white cavern. He blinked, his eyes momentary dazzled after the gloom of the tight passage. What he at first thought was ice was the natural color of the stone. It was beautiful—and confusing. There were all sorts of stone formations, but it was difficult to orient himself among them, and he could easily get turned around in here. He scratched several blaze marks around the tunnel exit to be on the safe side. He regretting marring the purity of these stones, but he put them where they would not be conspicuous to anyone not looking for them. When he judged it safe, he continued through the white cavern.

More white stone, its folds and creases and columns creating seemingly endless nooks and crannies and side tunnels. Janken stopped, shivering. The icy white of the cave was getting to him. He felt his energy and warmth ebbing. If he stopped here he would get sleepy, and then he wouldn't ever wake up. He had done his best, he decided, and now it was time to go back before hypothermia set in. He was tired, but, he told himself, he could run. He'd have to, to keep warm.

As he took a final glance around, he noticed a dark mark on the ground. There, clearly visible against the white rock, was a dark foorprint. Or, more precisely, a toe-print, as if someone wearing boots had tripped there.

Eyes wide, Janken stared. He reached down and touched it, smearing the print with his mittened hand. It was real. He looked around, and saw a ramp leading up into the darkness above.

He dropped his marking stone and dashed up the ramp.

* * *

><p>Soon he heard a sound. It was a soft humming at this distance, but one he knew well. The sound of many voices blended together. He put on a burst of speed, scrambling through the caves as if fleeing a garboyle. There was no fear in his heart, however; only joy.<p>

He emerged into a cavern filled with Fraggles. All were bundled together in a sea of warm clothes, dotted here and there by fire bowls. Their clothing and skin and hair were a crazy-quilt of colors. And they were all singing The Carol of the Promise. Janken raised his voice and sang with them,

"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,  
>There's a dream of green that needs to wake.<br>A password and a promise  
>That the earth will never ever break.<br>It's coming, feel it humming,  
>In the hearts we share with rock and sky,<br>So raise your voices high!"

The crowd sparkled as light flashed off the bells the Fraggles rang. Janken rang his joyfully, scanning the crowd. In this sea of bundled-up Fraggles, how could he find anybody? They were all facing the center of the Great Hall, where Cantus, who had been leading the festival as he always did, stood. Janken considered calling out to the Minstrel, but that was only the second thing on his mind. He kept scanning the crowd until one head-turn caught his eye. He made his way into the hall, toward a knit cap that had two crowns, both tipped with a big puff of red hair. As he got closer he recognized the pattern of his father Wembley's signature banana tree shirt, worn on top of a warm sweater, and his mother Mokey's blue-green hair, and Papa Gobo's vest. What looked like a pile of laundry was Papa Boober, bundled up against the cold. They were busy ringing their bells and making merry, and they had not noticed him. He grinned, then reached around Mokey from behind, took her right hand, and rang her bell.

Startled, she looked around. "Who—_Janken!"_

Janken had been thinking of clever entrance lines, but forgot all about them and just hugged Mokey tightly. "Mama!"

The others were exclaiming in surprise. Gobo asked, "How'd you get here? We didn't know you were coming back!"

Janken turned and hugged him. "I didn't know either! A rockslide trapped me over there, and now another rockslide just opened a new passage, and here I am!"

Wembley joined in on what had become a group hug. "I don't believe it! Welcome home!"

'Thanks, Papa." He looked at Wembley, then realized he was looking slightly down. He used to see eye to eye with Wembley. Wembley, noticing the same thing, said, "Wow! You got big while you were away."

"Yeah, I did some growing up out there," Janken said, grinning.

"**Janjanjan**!"

Janken was attacked by a green ball of fur. His little sister, Sage, had been playing in the Weeba Beast costume, and had just heard Janken's voice. She, too, had grown in the past two years, and her playful rush nearly knocked him over. She stopped and grabbed him to keep him from falling. "Sorry, Jan!"

"Never mind," he said, and hugged her. She squeezed back hard, as if to make up for missed time.

Reproachfully Boober said, "Sage! He's tired and cold. Let him rest and warm up before you maul him."

Janken's first impulse was to protest that he was all right now, but, well, he was feeling the effects of his journey. Red, who was still sitting down, shifted to the side and said, "Here, sit with me. I warmed the rock for ya."

"Heh, thanks." Janken glanced over, and for a moment misunderstood what he saw. Red had no lap at all; her arms were around what he thought was a very round stomach. Then he saw the top of a head peeking out of her coat, and realized that she was holding Poncle under her coat to keep her warm.

Noting his startled expression, she said, "What?"

"For a moment I thought you were having another baby."

"What? No, just the same one." The opened her coat a little, and Poncle looked around to see what all the commotion was about. Red told her, "Janken's come home."

Unimpressed, Poncle looked at the purple Fraggle she had never seen before. Of course she wouldn't recognize him; when he had left she was just a newborn, her eyes not yet open. Sage came back carrying a blanket. She handed it to Janken, and he wrapped it around himself while she explained to Poncle, "He's our brother. A brother's like a boy sister." Startled, Janken laughed. Sage told him, "She's just a baby. She doesn't understand much yet."

"You're teaching her, though. I knew you'd be a great big sister."

"Can I be a little sister too?" she asked him.

"Yeah. You can start by helping warm me up." He patted his lap. She sat crosswise on it, and he wrapped the blanket around them both as he hugged her again.

* * *

><p>The family talked, chatting about things that they had only been able to mention in the small space that postcards allowed. Janken tried to explain his job in terms they would understand: making pictures of people telling stories, like Doc took photos, but the pictures moved, and they captured the sound as well, so people could see it again later. The concept startled the other Fraggles. But Gobo reminded them of the device that Doc had once used to save his voice so he could talk to the Fraggles after he left; this must be like that, but they could watch as well as listen. They found that much easier to understand.<p>

Red had recovered quickly after Janken had left. She wasn't able to do much in the field of athletics for the rest of that year, but the next summer she was back to racing, rock hockey, and of course diving and swimming and splashing around. She and Gobo had formed rival rock hockey teams because, so she said, if they teamed up nobody else would stand a chance. Gobo did not disagree.

Mokey had been composing poetry and painting when not busy with the children. Janken wanted to see her latest works; he had missed her art and writing. Wembley and Boober had nothing major to tell Janken about. Wembley was just cheerfully living life, and Boober remarked that he had no complaints, which by his standards was practically a state of giddy joy. Sage and Poncle were busy growing and learning. Sage in particular had a long list of accomplishments to rattle off.

When Sage paused to take a breath Janken heard, "How goes your journey?"

He looked up. Cantus had approached so quietly that Janken had not noticed. He answered, "It wasn't what I expected. It was longer, and harder...and better."

Cantus nodded. "What have you learned?"

"Um..." He patted Sage's back and said, "Let me up, Sis."

She asked, "Are you going away again?"

"Just for a few minutes. C'mon."

Reluctantly she slid off his lap. Janken stood, and he and Cantus walked slowly through the Fraggle throng as they talked. Janken began, "I think I figured out the answer to your question."

"Well?"

"The people living on the surface—Outer Space—live so differently from us that we may think they're crazy, or at least stilly. But they're like Gorgs, or Doozers, or Thrumb, or even Fraggles. Once you learn about them you find out that the way they live makes sense. And the more you understand, the more you realize that, when you get down to the core, you're more the same than different." That sounded clumsy, he thought. It was so simple and elegant in his head, but it sure didn't come out that way.

Cantus said, "You have learned to listen."

Relieved, Janken said, "Thank you. Can I ask you a question?"

"There can be no answers without questions."

He took that as a yes. "Why did you take me with you? How did you know what would happen?"

"I did not know what would become of you, or what you would become. I cannot see into the future. But I do have a good view of the present." His eyes met Janken's. "I invited you because I saw a hint of what you were capable of, if given the opportunity."

Was Cantus talking about destiny? That was silly. Destiny was a fairytale guarantee of the role you would have in life. It didn't happen that way in real life. You had to work for your accomplishments. And, Janken realized, he had been willing, eager even, to leave the comfort of his home to travel into the unknown with the Minstrels. It had been partially because of his feelings for Cantus, but he had also wanted to see the other colonies the Minstrels visited. Not many Fraggles would be so interested, but he had been raised on tales of Outer Space. He had been exploring with his family as long as he could remember, and he had grown up with Gorgs and Doozers and a Hairy Monster and a Human Being as friends. He might as well have been raised to bridge the gap between the inner and outer worlds. Which sounded silly and egotistic, but, he thought, it might be true in a way. He said to Cantus, who had waited while he thought all this over, "I guess I was the right Fraggle at the right time."

Cantus nodded emphatically. Janken felt as if he had won a prize. Sincerely he said, "Thank you. Thanks for helping me find my place. It's not what I expected, and it's sure not what I wanted when I started out, but now I wouldn't want it any other way."

"You have begun singing your song," Cantus told him, and turned away.

What? Janken had no idea what that meant; Janken didn't have a song like other Fraggles did. But Cantus wouldn't be Cantus if he wasn't confusing. There was a time, Janken thought, when he would have done anything for the elder Minstrel; he would only have had to crook a finger at him. But Cantus had wanted nothing from him, and another had beckoned. Now he realized that his needy adolescent crush had faded to a gentle warmth.

Janken went back to his family. Mica had joined them. Janken said, "Mica! How are you?"

"I'm all right. How about you?"

She looked worried. "I'm all right. What's wrong?"

Reluctantly she said, "Jan... I have another roommate now."

He asked, "Do you get along well?"

"Yeah."

Her smile told him all he needed to know. "Then, good. Now will you hug me?"

Relieved, she gave her old friend a tight squeeze. He whispered into her ear, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"Maybe I've found someone."

"Really?"

"Shh. Our secret for now. I'm not sure, but I'm hoping."

"Good luck!"

"Thanks."

When they separated Gobo said, "Don't worry about where to stay. You can room with Wembley and me again. You can have your old nook."

Boober said, "Sage has been living with me, and Red and Mokey have Poncle. It all evens out."

Janken said, "Er... I'm not staying."

"You're not? Why?" Red asked, startled.

Janken looked around at his whole family. "Um. My home is here... but I have a home up on the surface too. I have a job, and friends, and a place to live. And..."

Wembley said softly, "And you _want_ to go back."

"Yeah. I'm still learning about Outer Space, and if I came home now it would be like, what was the point? I wouldn't have accomplished anything 'cause I quit before I was finished."

"What do you have to do?" Sage asked.

"I'm not sure," Janken told her.

"Then when will you come back for real?"

He sat down. "I don't know. It may be a long, long time. But I'll visit, now that I know the way back."

"You promise?"

"You bet!"

"You better," Red told him.

"Are you going to stay a little while, at least?" Gobo asked.

Janken paused. People would wonder if he disappeared. Scooter expected to see him tomorrow, and if the people at TMI saw the new opening in the cave they might think that he had gone for good. But to find Fraggle Rock at long last and then turn right back around? He said, "Yeah, for a few days at least. My friends'll understand. Um, first, think I could go up and ask Doc to pass on a message so they won't worry? A postcard wouldn't get there fast enough."

"Sure. It's day up there now."

Sage took his hand. "I know the way. I'll show you."

He remembered the path as well, but she was so very determined to stick with him. "Okay. Be right back," he said, waving at the rest of his family.

Sage led him by the hand through the cold tunnels. With an impish grin she began to sing,

"Every day the world begins again,  
>Sunny skies or rain.<br>Come and follow me."

He smiled and responded,

"Every sunrise shows me more and more,  
>So much to explore.<br>Come and follow me."

He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. Together they sang, making the tunnel walls echo with their joy.

"Every morning, every day,  
>Every evening, calling me away!"<p>

* * *

><p>Fraggle Rock, the songs <em>There's a Promise<em> and _Follow Me,_ and all characters except Scooter, Janken, Cheryl, Sage, Poncle, and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Rapper's Delight_ is by The Sugarhill Gang. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	18. Outtakes

**A Wandering Heart  
>Extras: Outtakes<strong>  
>by Kim McFarland<p>

* * *

><p><strong>PART 1:<strong>

[SCENE: the Gorg's garden. It is raining and the ground is muddy. Sage grabs the leaves growing out of a radish almost as big as she is and pulls hard. After much effort, skidding around in the mud, the radish comes loose—and rolls on top of her, smushing her into the squelchy mud.]

* * *

><p><strong>PART 4:<strong>

[Janken is writing on Fraggle paper, whatever that is. Mica comes in and reads over his shoulder.]

Mica: "It was a dark and stormy night"?

Janken: The Storyteller starts out that way when her imagination's out to lunch.

* * *

><p>[Janken and Mica are sitting side-by-side, her arm around his back. The atmosphere is bittersweet. They sit for a little while. Then Mica looks at him.]<p>

Janken: What?

Mica: Your stomach was supposed to growl.

Janken: I can't make my stomach growl on command. They'll have to dub it in.

Mica: So much for method acting.

Janken: [burps] Will that do?

Mica: We'll stick with dubbing.

* * *

><p><strong>PART 5:<strong>

Cantus: We will be moving on this afternoon. If you decide to join us, be ready to leave then.

Janken: [flustered] I... thanks!

[Janken dashes off. The Minstrels watch him go.]

Murray: [to Cantus] Why do you get all the groupies?

* * *

><p><strong>PART 6:<strong>

[The Minstrels have swapped instruments and played some music.]

Murray: [to Janken] Surprised?

Janken: Yes. I didn't know you played other instruments.

Cantus: To play as one, you must understand the whole.

Janken: [nodding] Oh, that makes sense.

Cantus: [startled] It does?

Murray: You're slipping, boss.

* * *

><p><strong>PART 10:<strong>

[Janken emerges from a small tunnel into a dark storage room filled with boxes. He feels around in the dark, finds the door, and can't open it. He goes back to his backpack and gets something out. Then he climbs up the pile of boxes. When he reaches the top he plants a flag bearing the Solemn Mark of the Fraggle on the lid.]

* * *

><p><strong>PART 12:<strong>

[Janken accepts a telephone receiver from Lana.]

Doc: [through the phone] Janken Fraggle?

Janken: Doc! Is that you?

Doc: Of course it's me! They told me you've been stuck out there for months! Why didn't you call earlier? Or at least send a postcard so your family would know what happened to you?

Janken: Er... I didn't think of it?

* * *

><p><strong>PART 15:<strong>

[Janken and Scooter are sitting alone in the theater, holding hands. A movie has just finished. Scooter holds up a DVD remote player with his free ahnd and, aiming over the seat back, turns off the DVD player.]

Janken: Thanks.

Scooter: Glad you liked it.

Janken: It's the second best thing that happened to me today.

[Scooter makes a face.]

Janken: What?

Scooter: Whew! Dragon breath.

Janken: _Who_ put the peppers and onions in my salad?

Scooter: Next time, I'm packing mouthwash.

Janken: Fine by me, carnivore.

* * *

><p><strong>PART 17:<strong>

[The Great Hall, the winter solstice. Everyone has finished singing _There's A Promise_ and Janken has joyfully returned to his family. Now Cantus and Janken are speaking.]

Cantus: You have learned to listen.

Janken: Thank you. Can I ask you a question?

Cantus: There can be no answers without questions.

Janken: What does 'Let Me Be Your Song' really mean? It sounds like... you know.

Cantus: [momentarily flustered, then recovers and answers] I was young once too.

Janken: [grinning] Thought so.

* * *

><p>Scooter and the Muppet Theater are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. Cantus, Murray, and Doc are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Sage, Janken, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.<p> 


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